


hear me (what words just can't convey)

by restless (cabinfever)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutant Powers, Overdosing, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 17:03:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 54,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2199840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabinfever/pseuds/restless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn’t what Zayn expected at all when he was told he was getting adopted. He’s keeping his hopes up that maybe he’ll learn how to fly or something just to fit in.<br/>Or: The one where Zayn is confused, Liam makes too many mistakes, Harry is helpful, Niall is angry, and Louis just wants people to get along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hear me (what words just can't convey)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my baby. I've been working on it since January of 2013, and originally it was supposed to be done by August 2013, but that didn't happen. So here's my huge pet project. I hope you enjoy!

 

Zayn Malik was, in essence, totally fucked.

The rent for his apartment, though meager, was long past due and he hadn’t made enough at his job to pay for it. He blamed it on the time two weeks ago when he’d bailed Ant out of jail, and reminded himself to make Ant pay up later on.

But for now, his landlord was threatening to throw him out and Zayn was still as fucked as always.

Pulling the edges of his jacket collar up around his neck against the wind that was whipping down the streets, he shouldered his backpack and headed down towards the school. Now, of course, he was probably late to school, and that was the third time that week.

(When was the last time he’d cared about that?)

And it was beginning to rain.

(He didn’t have an umbrella.)

And he hadn’t eaten breakfast.

(But what else was new?)

At least it was Friday.

***

“Malik!”

Zayn glanced over his shoulder, scowling when Ant loped over to him, his smile wide and unaware of Zayn’s anger. Zayn turned back to his locker and shoved his literature textbook onto the shelf with perhaps a bit more force than what was entirely necessary. “What d’you want?” he asked roughly.

Ant’s eyes watched him curiously. “You already had history, yeah?” he asked. When Zayn nodded sullenly, he reached into Zayn’s locker to grab the thick tome. “I need to borrow it. Left mine at home.”

Zayn snorted. “You always do,” he muttered, and Ant narrowed his eyes, hefting Zayn’s history book in his hands.

“Something wrong, Zayn?”

At that particular moment, there was nothing that Zayn wanted to do more than slam his locker shut right in Ant’s face. However, classic rules of etiquette still applied, so he settled for the best glares he could come up with. The satisfaction wasn’t there, though.

“Yes, Ant,” Zayn seethed, turning back to his friend. “What’s wrong is that you fucking up with that drug deal cost me way more than I could afford. And now I’m going to get kicked the fuck out of my home and it’s your fault.”

Ant raised his eyebrows. “Really? You’re blaming me now? When you bailed me out, you said that was what friends are for. Remember?”

Zayn glared with what he hoped were his most venomous eyes. “So how about you be a pal and help me out for once?”

Ant shrugged, showing his open palms in a gesture of careless surrender. “Hey, man, why do you think I needed you to bail me out in the first place? I’m broke, man, and I can’t help you. Sorry.” He headed off without further ado, catching up with his latest girl further down the hallway.

Zayn scoffed, slamming his locker shut with a bang. “Sorry, he just says,” he muttered to himself. “That’s what friends are for.”

Fuck Ant.

Fuck this day in particular.

And with that piece of bitter anger stuck in his throat like a razor blade, Zayn trudged to chemistry class.

***

Dinner that night was typical. The final piece of microwaveable chicken was heated and eaten underneath a flickering light bulb at the kitchen table. Homework followed soon after; despite his reputation as a slacker in class, Zayn always made sure to do his actual work. College was the only way out of the hellhole that he’d been unlucky enough to be placed in.

The routine of life was monotonous by now, full of working and painting and sitting around sleeping until someone came to his door needing a place to crash because they were high or on the run or whatever. Zayn didn’t care. That was his life.

The knock at the door dragged him from the cruel monotony of flicking through a three month old comic book. He pulled himself from the couch and went to the door, making a mental note to buy more canvases; he was running low.

“Zayn, please open up. Please!”

Perrie. That was the only person with such a quiet, urgent voice. Zayn unlocked the door quickly and Perrie’s blonde head crashed into his chest at an alarming speed. “Whoa, Perrie, what’s wrong?” Zayn asked worriedly; she was the one of his only friends that he genuinely liked. “Are you hurt?”

“A little,” Perrie said in a small voice with just a little bit of a sob tacked onto the end. That’s when Zayn knew that something was up.

“Was he hurting you again, Perrie? Be honest with me now,” he asked, feeling a rush of sympathy for his ex-girlfriend. After they’d broken up – amiably, since things hadn’t been clicking – Perrie had started dating her dealer, Ian. Unfortunately for her, the guy was a dick and an alcoholic, and he tended to beat her up when he got too drunk.

Perrie nodded, her head still buried in Zayn’s chest. “He – he followed me here. You have to let me stay here,” she begged, “please.”

Zayn nodded, running his hands down her arms to check for wounds. Thankfully, there were none there. He led his weeping friend to the couch, sitting her down on the cushions before he went to fetch the first-aid kit. After the first three times that Perrie had come to his flat like this, he’d made sure to include a heaping amount of tissues in the kit as well. “Okay, love, let’s see the damage,” he murmured soothingly, returning to Perrie and attempting to remove her trembling hands from her face. “Love, I can’t help you if you hide from me,” he tried, tugging at her wrists. “C’mon, Perrie, I need to see what he did.”

She just let out another sob.

“Perrie, come on,” Zayn coaxed. “If you want, I’ll even let you sleep in my bed with me to keep you safe if that’ll make you feel better.”

The blonde lowered her thin, pale hands, and Zayn let out a growl of fury. Perrie’s left eye was beginning to swell into a massive bruise, and there was blood dried underneath her nose and below her bottom lip, which had swollen massively. Ian had really gotten her this time. “Oh, love,” Zayn whispered sadly, and Perrie whimpered.

“I don’t know – I don’t know what I did wrong!” she began, her voice shrill. Her hands fluttered around nervously. “I just was trying to clear the table; we’d had a nice meal with plates and everything because he’d gotten into some money after a deal, and he got angry when I took his plate away – I thought he was done eating – and he- and he hit me!” She dissolved into tears then, her body curling over to sob. Zayn held her like that, with him on his knees beside the couch and her with her head on his shoulder and her trembling arms clutching him tightly. It might’ve been hours, but eventually Perrie’s sobs turned to whimpers and then to quiet sniffs, and Zayn extricated himself from her grip.

“Let’s get you cleaned up now, shall we?” he suggested, and he set to work with a reassuring smile when Perrie nodded.

He put her to bed a little bit around one in the morning, having finally put the necessary ointment on her eye and wiped her face clean of blood. She’d be a bit roughed up for a while, and the chances were that she’d be staying in Zayn’s apartment for the next week or so before Ian crawled back, begging for forgiveness.

He was betting on that lasting for at most two weeks before she came back again and the cycle would restart.

Such was the way of things.

Zayn went to shut off the lights in the apartment, finally ending what had been a hellish day. He lay in the dark next to Perrie, staring up through the blackness toward where his ceiling was. He was days away from getting evicted, his friend was an ass, and his ex-girlfriend was getting abused by a guy who was a drug dealer.

But what else was new?

***

Who the fuck cared about spontaneous combustion anyways?

He chewed the end of his pencil, gnawing at the sickeningly metallic ring that surrounded the eraser. Beside him, he wasn't really sure if his lab partner was asleep or dead of an overdose. Honestly, he didn’t really doubt the latter. Not in this part of the city.

For the fifteenth time in the past minute, he checked the clock to see if it was time to leave class yet. Chemistry ended at 10:30, and the hands on the clock were still stuck on 9:53. He was sure that this fucking clock was broken.

He hated Mondays.

"Mr. Malik! Would you like to answer the question sometime today, please?"

Ant, sitting two seats in front of Zayn and to the right side of the aisle, snickered and whispered a comment to his own lab partner that sounded suspiciously like ‘what a fucking idiot.’

The rest of the class sniggered, and Zayn subtly flipped Ant off on his way to the blackboard at the front of the room. He picked up the forlornly short piece of chalk and looked back at the teacher in expectation. He raised an eyebrow; frankly, who was even listening to the lesson anymore?

Mr. Lloyd blinked, staring at Zayn disapprovingly over the frames of his thick-lensed glasses. "Zayn, the question was whether or not it is possible to spontaneously combust at any place in the body. Thoughts?"

Zayn stared at the chalk blankly, trying valiantly to recall something about the conditions needed to create a fire. He shrugged in resignation, recalling a triangle diagram that, woefully, remained blank in his mind’s eye. "Dunno."

The teacher’s eyes narrowed marginally. "A shame, Malik." Mr. Lloyd stood and swiped the chalk from Zayn's hand. He began to draw quickly on the blackboard, and Zayn took that as a cue to go back to his own seat. Behind him, Mr. Lloyd launched into another speech of his: "Now, one of the major factors in the creation of a fire is heat. Where is the heat needed to fuel such a blaze? A human body is too wet and not hot enough to allow for fire to appear on or in their body spontaneously. Spontaneous combustion is most definitely not possible for humans." He seemed so enthusiastic about the subject, humorously so even. It was still a wonder why such a knowledgeable man would end up in this shitty part of the city.

Zayn scribbled a few words of the explanation into his notes, though the words were cramped into inopportune spaces by the doodles that trailed across the papers. There were priorities in Zayn’s life, and school fell far down on the list.

“Excuse me, Mr. Lloyd?”

He ignored the squeaky voice of the office’s student messenger, Claire Agnestory. She was an ever-present annoyance to him in the school, and had some kind of ‘soul connection’ to him, as she called it. She was one of those weird hippie kids that only ate soy beans or whatever it was that they did.

There was Mr. Lloyd’s telltale sigh, grating out as a curl of hair was added to one of Zayn’s little figures on the paper. “Yes, Miss Claire?”

“The office would like to see Zayn Malik, please. He has someone here to talk to him.”

Zayn lifted his head from his work, raising is eyebrows at Ant, who shrugged. Neither of them knew of anybody who would come to talk to Zayn at school hours. For that matter, none of them knew anybody that would talk to Zayn at all.

Mr. Lloyd waved him off. “Go, go, whatever.”

Zayn swept his notebook and pen into his black bag, slinging it over one shoulder. Nodding to Ant and poking his lab partner in the back to wake her up, he sauntered to the doorway. Claire smiled at him, her big doe eyes watching him eagerly, and waited for him to exit the classroom before trotting after him, her sandals slapping on the ground. “Zayn!” she chirped. “Good to see you!”

“Well, that’s good for you, but honestly I couldn’t care less,” Zayn replied offhandedly.

Claire frowned and kept her head down, avoiding his eyes for the rest of the walk to the office. Zayn felt kind of bad for her, but honestly she should know better than to be so vulnerable.

The school had such a dark feel to it despite the flickering white lights that ran along the ceiling. The lockers were old, rusted, and covered in gum and grime, and the walls felt like they were closing in on the narrow corridor. As a school in the dingy side of the city, there wasn’t much opportunity to have extra space; the school was actually divided on four levels, as it had been forced to build up rather than out. Thankfully, the chemistry room was on the first floor.

They made it to the polished wooden door – the only one in the school that was actually well maintained – of the main office and stopped there.

“Goodbye, Zayn,” Claire offered.

Zayn nodded to her – she had nice eyes – and entered the office.

The secretary looked up, her lip curling in slight distaste when she saw Zayn enter. Zayn had been down to the office quite a few more times than he could count on his fingers and toes, and he had never exactly seen eye to eye with the dumpy older woman.

“Oh, it’s you,” she sneered. “Go on into the principal’s office. You have a visitor.”

Zayn ducked his head and went for the smaller office, closing the door behind him with a pleasant slam. He could hear the secretary’s sigh of annoyance through the wood and grinned. It was always a pleasure to get on her nerves.

“Mr. Malik, come in,” the principal greeted him, looking surprisingly elated. “Have a seat.”

Zayn sat down slowly, watching the principal’s eyes. “What’s this about?” He searched his brain for any possible infractions that would warrant a visit, especially one that the leader of the school would be so excited about, but he came up empty.

The principal folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “Well, Zayn, as a minor under the jurisdiction of the city, you are licensed to be legally adopted and taken into a new home. Today, your adoption papers were signed.”

Zayn recoiled. “Adoption?” he spat in disbelief. “You can’t just force me–”

“But we can,” the principal interrupted calmly. “We have a man here who has taken interest in taking in another young man to be taken to his home up in the countryside. We have him waiting outside the school whenever you want to meet him.”

“I’m not going to fucking move,” Zayn growled, burrowing deeper into the seat, “until I have some fucking answers.”

“Language, Zayn!” the principal reprimanded him, standing from his chair. “Now come on, you need to go.” He grabbed hold of Zayn’s arm and pulled him forcefully from the chair, pulling Zayn out of the office. Zayn had no choice but to trot along mulishly.

The secretary looked up as they passed, and she gave a waggle of her fingers and triumphant smirk as a means of farewell. Zayn opted to flip her off.

It felt good.

Once outside the school, Zayn caught sight of a large vehicle parked just outside the front doors, and a man was leaning against it with his arms crossed.

The principal clapped him on the back. “Your files and schoolwork have already been taken care of by the city. You’re all ready to go. It was good having you as a student, Mr. Malik.” With that, he trotted back into the school, and Zayn twisted to see the principal throw a victory fist into the air. He snorted in amusement. The bastard.

“Some principal you’ve got. He really cares about the students,” a new voice commented sardonically. Zayn swiveled on his feet, making eye contact with the new man next to the car.

“Zayn Malik, yeah?” The man was large, and looked quite a bit more intimidating than any of the gang members in the school.

Zayn nodded, still wary about the man’s identity. “Yeah. Who’re you?”

The man extended a beefy hand. “Paul Higgins. Nice to finally meet you, Zayn.”

Shaking the man’s hand, Zayn admitted, “I’d probably return the sentiment if I knew who you were, but…” He trailed off, trying to allude to the fact that he really wanted to know who the fuck this guy was. “And how the fuck did you find me and want to adopt me?”

“All in due time,” Paul told him, and already Zayn was already getting tired of this cryptic shit. “Please, Zayn, understand that I don’t mean to hurt you in any way, shape, or form. I did this for your own good.”

“Adoption,” Zayn hissed, reluctantly letting Paul – who apparently was his father now – take his schoolbag and put it into the backseat of the car. “I always hated it.”

The man’s eyes turned apologetic, but still they were firm. “Please, Zayn, keep an open mind about this,” he implored. “Maybe you can warm up to the idea soon.”

“We’ll see,” was all that Zayn offered in return. Paul sighed and ushered him to the backseat of the car.

“If you would just get in, we can get going.”

“What about my stuff at home?” Zayn asked. “I need that.” He cast his thoughts to his art supplies and precious collection of books, hoping that he would be allowed to keep them.

Paul smiled. “As a ward of the state, your possessions belong to the government or to your legal parents. I’ve already picked up your necessities and paid off your rent. Everything is taken care of.”

Zayn frowned. “I don’t know whether to thank you or punch you,” he told his new father.

Paul shrugged. “I’d prefer the former,” he told Zayn with a weak smile. “Now, if you would…” he gestured to the large vehicle, and Zayn finally obliged and went to enter the car.

He saw a shock of brown curls in the passenger side and wanted to inquire about who was there, but then Paul was gently pushing him to the back door, urging him into the car.

It wasn’t a terribly luxurious car, more of a classy SUV in all honesty, but to Zayn it was a limo. The seats were softer than the city bus seats that he was accustomed to, and they weren’t covered in the scrawl of profanities from long-gone delinquents. To sum it up, Zayn was pleasantly surprised, despite his resentment for the situation in general.

“Welcome to the Batmobile,” Paul announced, sliding into the driver’s side. “It’s the base of all operations.”

“Again, what are you talking about?” Zayn asked, reaching into his workman’s boot for his pocketknife. If he had to, he wanted to get out of there fast.

“Whoa, no need to get the weapons out,” another voice suddenly spoke out, and the mass of curls in the passenger seat turned around to reveal a wide-eyed boy. He had an easygoing grin on his face. “There will be no injuries to the upholstery or Nick will kill us.”

“Who the hell is Nick? And who are you?” Zayn demanded, shrinking away from the new arrival despite the fact that the boy seemed to welcoming and friendly, like he just radiated confidence and benevolence.

The boy held out a long-fingered hand, giving another bright smile. “Harry Styles,” he introduced himself. “I’m one of the other adopted ones.” He shook Zayn’s hand with enthusiasm that Zayn had not thought possible. “Don’t worry, mate, just calm down. You’re not going to get attacked or mugged or anything. Despite his looks, Paul here is quite the teddy bear.”

“Are you adopted too?” Zayn inquired, watching the warm glow in Harry’s eyes glint brighter.

“Yeah, and I’ve been here for almost the longest time. Only Josh was here before me,” he announced proudly.

Zayn dug his fingers into the seats, trying to grasp the situation. At least there was someone else here, so he wasn’t guaranteed to be kidnapped or anything. That was a small reassurance, at least. “So where are we going?”

Harry’s eyes were still appraising Zayn’s appearance critically. “Out into the country. We have a huge property. There’s a forest that’s mostly ours and we have a valley and a nice house. There’s tons of room; you’ll love it.”

“Anywhere’s better than here, I suppose,” Zayn muttered, glaring out the window at the passing buildings of the city.

“You don’t like it here?” Harry asked curiously, following Zayn’s gaze. “Your apartment was nice enough.”

This boy was honestly a bit too nice. “My apartment is a piece of shit that barely holds a kitchen, bathroom, or bed. It was one room that I divided off with a sheet. I get home from school every day to find someone passed out on the steps to the building. Or I’d get mugged on my way to the store. It doesn’t get much worse than that,” he told Harry bluntly.

“You could be homeless.”

Zayn glared at Harry, unimpressed. “But I’m not, so it’s irrelevant.”

“But you don’t live in your apartment anymore, so that’s irrelevant too,” Harry retorted. He gave a triumphant grin when Zayn was at a loss for words; the kid was right. “Trust me, though. You’ll love it at home.”

“What’s it going to be like?”

"You'll be able to come and go as you please, and you'll get a nice weekly allowance of 200 dollars to go into the city or to just put into a bank fund of your own. As long as you don't get in trouble or run away, you’ll be just dandy.”

"What about school?" Zayn asked, realizing that that had been the one thing that hadn't been mentioned yet. "I still need a degree; I need to go to college and get a real job!"

Harry snorted. "You actually like school?"

Zayn shrugged. "I mean, art and writing and biology are my only good subjects, so I don’t want to just throw them away.”

“Well, let me tell you something, Zayn. Nick – he’s the oldest of the newcomers here, pretty much an adult anyway – runs an early-morning radio show from the basement. He’s quite successful, actually. You’ll find a place here with no problem. What do you do? Art and bio, you said?”

Zayn shrugged. “Pretty much. Mostly art, really.”

Harry nodded sagely. “No problem. Art is always great when you’re living in such a hectic place. You’ll fit right in, Zayn. I promise. And we get homeschooled. It’s a great deal of fun, to be perfectly honest. You get to learn whatever you want and then, if you want to, you can go off to college. But mostly we all just stick around after.”

So this place was a full-fledged establishment, then. A sudden thought hit Zayn, one that he felt guilty for not thinking of earlier. “What about my friends? I didn’t get to say goodbye or anything!” He remembered Perrie’s bruised face and Ant’s problems with the law. How could he just leave them?

“I’m sorry, Zayn, but this was the best way,” Paul told him from the front seat. “It had to be this way or you wouldn’t have wanted to leave.”

“Yeah, but now I have to go back!” Zayn argued, feeling resentment bubble up in his chest again.

“No, you don’t,” Paul told him. “Your place is here now. They can go on without you.”

Zayn barked out a laugh. “Trust me; I was the only thing holding us all together. I can’t even imagine what they’re going to be like without me.”

Paul’s eyes regarded him through the rearview mirror of the vehicle. “I do believe,” the large man said quietly, “that you need a few lessons in modesty.”

“Chill, Paul, he’s just adjusting,” Harry dismissed easily, and Zayn was beginning to like this kid.

“If his attitude isn’t straightened out now, there’s no telling how he’ll be later on,” Paul reminded Harry with a pointed glance to Zayn in the mirror. Zayn rolled his eyes and stared out the window, watching as the suburbs on the outskirts of the city flew past with amazing speed.

Harry rolled his eyes at Zayn behind Paul’s back, and Zayn cracked a grin at him. “He’s always like this,” the curly-haired boy told him quietly. “Don’t worry too much about the threats; he never means them. He’s a big softie.”

Zayn nodded and gave Harry a knowing look. “I see.” He glanced at his watch, and then out the windows. “Hey, Harry, how long is it until we get there?”

“You’ve got two hours, probably. An hour and forty-five minutes if Paul drives fast and the traffic isn’t shit.” Harry shrugged. “Feel free to sleep or whatever.”

“Thanks, man,” Zayn told him sincerely, feeling strangely comforted by this stranger who would be his brother. Harry gave him thumbs up and swiveled back around in his seat, facing the front again. Zayn leaned his head against the window of the car, casting his eyes outside to watch other cars speed past.

Trepidation still rushed through him, but with ease, he dropped off to sleep in a stranger’s car.

But it felt right. Somehow, deep in the back of his mind, Zayn knew that this was a good thing for him.

Like he was coming home.

***

“Zayn. Zayn. Z-A-Y-N. Wake up.”

Zayn groaned and shifted in his bed – no, shit, that was a chair. He lifted his aching, sore neck up and turned his head around confusedly. “Wazzit?” he mumbled, still half delirious.

Harry smiled at him when his vision came back into focus. “We’re home!” he exclaimed cheerily, and Zayn blinked around himself, looking out the car window at the green that awaited him outside.

A forest of trees lay off to the side of the driveway, but what really caught Zayn’s eye was the house. Harry had alluded that there were a lot of people living on the property, but Zayn had had no idea that a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere could be so elegant and massive.

It was painted a regal blue, nothing too fancy at first but with a new gray flagstone path leading to the front porch. Zayn opened the door to the car and hopped out, looking around at the clear blue sky that was devoid of city smog and the actual, real grass that lay all around him. It was nearly surreal.

“Where are we?” Zayn asked in wonder, turning back to regard Harry’s grinning face. “This is amazing!”

Harry’s eyes twinkled. “This is home, Zayn.”

Wow.

The curly-haired boy swept his arm out, catching Zayn’s shoulders as he pulled Zayn towards the front door of the house. “Why don’t you come inside?”

The entrance to the house was open, but not so much that the place felt impersonal; Zayn settled on the word ‘cozy’ to describe it. Directly as he walked in, a staircase faced him, and there were entrances leading off to rooms on either side. Harry led him into a wide, airy room with a large table. “This is the dining room,” he explained. “Nothing special, but it fits our needs. Down here, we also have a bathroom, living room, and kitchen. And the door to the basement is over there, and that’s where Nick records his show. And then there’re Paul and Simon’s offices, but we don’t go in there.”

Zayn nodded, still taking in the amazing sights of what was to become his new home. He’d never seen such luxury in a place before.

A few dogs of varying sizes looked up lazily as he passed; their dark eyes were curious but not enough to get up and inspect a new visitor. Harry reached down and rubbed at the head of one of them as he passed, and the dog’s tongue lolled happily. Zayn went to scratch behind the ears of a particularly friendly-looking Husky type, but Harry looked back and stopped him. “Hey, man, I wouldn’t touch him if I were you,” he warned Zayn. “That’s Loki. He’s Liam’s dog.”

“He looks friendly enough,” Zayn countered. Surely this Liam person wasn’t too bad?

Harry smirked. “Yeah, but Liam doesn’t like people touching his things, especially Loki. So don’t touch the dog.”

Zayn didn’t touch the dog.

Harry gestured for him to sit at a chair at the large family-style table in the dining room, and Zayn sank into it comfortably. After the car ride, the plush chair was a welcome relief. He looked around the room; it was simple but so, so homey.

Zayn didn’t realize that he’d sighed in relief at the feeling until Harry chuckled warmly at him. “Comfy?” he asked, his dark eyebrows arched in humor.

“Yeah,” Zayn mumbled at the table embarrassedly. “Sorry.” When Harry replied that it was fine, Zayn began to sink back into the chair.

“Can we begin to talk now?” Harry asked, glancing up when Paul entered the room; the larger man sat down at the head of the table.

Zayn nodded. “Finally time to get some answers, yeah?” He was relieved; finally, they were going to come clean.

Harry bit his lip, fiddling with the bracelets that trailed up his wrists and arms. “Okay, Zayn, you’re probably not going to believe this right off the bat. And I don’t blame you; neither did I. But please bear with me here, okay?” Harry’s easygoing manner had slipped away, and he looked solemnly at Zayn with wide green eyes.

Zayn nodded. What could possibly be so crazy that he wouldn’t believe Harry?

Harry cleared his throat. “Okay, well I don’t really know how to begin…”

Zayn shrugged. “So just come on out and say it.”

Wary green eyes blinked skeptically at him for a second.  “I…well…”

“What?” Zayn prompted gently.

“Well, so, basically we’re not precisely…human. Not completely.”

“I’m sorry?” Zayn gaped at Harry, too floored by the news to really comprehend it.

“Hear me out. We’ve got these…these powers, you know? Like we can control the elements and we can do things that most people can’t.”

Zayn laughed, trying to make light of the situation; he was trying to see if the others would react similarly, like this was all some big joke. “You’re kidding, right?”

Harry looked mildly offended. “Why would I kid about this?” he asked somberly, and Zayn sobered instantly. When Harry saw that Zayn was willing to listen, he gave a reassuring smile and went on, “We have the ability to harness lightning and summon fire, all whenever it so pleases us.”

“But isn’t that like Greek mythology or something? Like how Zeus is an explanation for lightning?” Zayn was trying to rationalize himself out of this situation, away from these people who were clearly too delusional to keep him as a family member.

Paul seemed to be searching for words to explain. "We are not the sons of gods, nor are we the gods themselves. We are just warriors. We just…are."

“But how?” Zayn was dying to know, to understand how or why or if this was even fucking possible.

Paul looked sympathetic, his dark eyes fatherly and understanding. “I understand that you’re confused, Zayn, and I’m going to try to lay it out for you to think on.”

Zayn nodded, mind still reeling.

Seeing Zayn’s confirmation, Paul began, “You see, Zayn, when humanity began, there was originally only one type of human. These humans had the powers of the elements, but some didn’t know how to utilize these skills so they ended up living normal lives. After enough generations, the trait became dormant. Everyone still has it, but there is a very small chance that one could have it active, like us. Most of us today can be distantly traced back to a clan in Mesopotamia, where the powers flourished and the trait was isolated. And that’s how we found you.

“What we did was we traced back our family trees – our records go back for ages – and we found a group that all of us here have in common. And then we traced back down for anyone who may carry the gene.”

Zayn raised an eyebrow. “So you took me on a hunch? You’re not even entirely sure if I even have this mystical trait?”

“It’s highly likely,” Paul interjected, speaking up from his seat. “We are assuming that you are, and even if not, you can still stay here.”

“Did that mean…did that mean that my parents had the trait?” Zayn cast his memory back as far as it would go, trying to recall the faint memory of his smiling mother and strong, steady father.

Paul shrugged. “You know, they probably did, but not to the degree that you have it. Weaker versions of the original trait still exist in society today. Clairvoyance is one of the most common, for example. It all varies. When they had you, it was a bit of the luck of the draw, and you got the full extent of the combination of your parents’ genes with the trait. So you have a power. It’s probably dormant, but there nonetheless.”

“And what kinds of powers are there?” He was tentative, afraid to ask because if this was real, if this was really, truly real, then someone answering the question would cement it.

Harry waved an airy hand. “All kinds. You name it, we probably have it. Except for the lovey-dovey emotional influence or granting wishes type of crap. Save that for Twilight or Harry Potter or whatever. Here–” He got up from his chair and went to the bookshelf, grabbing a thick tome from among the others and bringing it over. “This is the history of our kind,” he explained, flipping through yellowed pages until he found a colorful one that satisfied him.

Zayn leaned over and looked over Harry’s shoulder. “And what’s that?”

“There are the basic elements–” here, Harry pointed to a compass shape on the page, each point showing fire, air, water, or earth in the stead of cardinal directions, “–and then you have electricity, light, ice, and plants. They’re rarer than the others, but they can also be far more dangerous.” There were the directions in between, like northeast and southwest. Harry continued, “And then we have the rarest ones, like shifting and flying, but they don’t belong on the wheel. We still have to figure out what you have, but we know that you have something.”

“And you?”

Zayn watched Harry’s hands as they were spread wide, and Harry chuckled before he clapped his hands together and the room shook. The dogs that had been sitting in the corner of the room whimpered and slunk out of the room, their high-pitched whines carrying through the room after their departure. The room stopped shaking and Harry leaned back in the chair, his face a little flushed.

“That,” he breathed, green eyes cheerful, “is what we call earth power.”

Zayn looked down at his own hands, flexing the fingers as if that would call forth whatever long-dormant power Harry kept rambling on about. As expected, a whole lot of nothing happened.

Harry’s lips split into another one of those movie-star grins. “It’s not gonna come that quickly, man,” he laughed. “It takes time; usually it’s spontaneous. It’ll happen when the time comes for you to discover it.”

“Are you always this cryptic?” Zayn asked the younger boy exasperatedly. “Am I ever going to get a straight answer around here?”

Harry shrugged. He offered, “At least you’re taking it well. When we found Niall, he tried to murder us with his power, and let me be the first to tell you that it is not a good idea to get into a fight with Niall.”

Zayn sighed. “Niall?”

“You’ll meet him later.” Harry waved off the question with another lazy grin.

“Of course,” Zayn replied, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “All in due time.”

Paul laughed. “We assure you, Zayn, everything that you need to know will be explained today. Don’t worry.”

Zayn heaved another sigh. “You keep saying that, but I’m still just trying to get the hang of this whole fucking thing.”

“Not to worry, man,” Harry assured him, clapping him on the back. “I almost fainted when I found out. You’re doing perfectly.”

Paul smiled benignly. “We’re trying to get you as comfortable as possible here. Therefore, we’ve decided to put you in a room with the four other younger boys,” he explained. “One of them happens to be Harry here.” The curly-haired boy offered yet another grin from his seemingly inexhaustible supply when Paul pointed at him. “And then we’ll have three others, Louis, Niall, and – oh, Liam, come on in!”

Zayn turned in his seat to see who Paul was looking at, and he was surprised by the sight that met him, the polar opposite of the boy he’d already met. Where Harry was all luscious locks and languid grins, this boy – Liam, Paul had called him – was short buzz cuts and challenging dark eyes.

“Zayn, this is Liam. Liam, this is Zayn. He’s new here and he’ll be your roommate along with the others.”

Liam’s eyes flickered over Zayn’ face for a moment, and he offered a tight-lipped smile that he probably thought looked friendly. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, though. “Nice to meet you,” he told Zayn before looking back over to Paul. “Simon wanted you to know that I’ve mastered warding,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Good, very good!” Paul congratulated, patting Liam heartily on the back – Liam flinched at the contact, Zayn noticed – and he gestured to Zayn. “Maybe you can show Zayn the ropes.”

“I can do that!” Harry protested, green eyes wide open in indignation. “I’ve been here the entire time and then Liam comes in for a second and he’s already got the job!” He pouted at Paul. “Paul, I was in the car with him, seriously!”

Liam held up his hands in surrender. “It’s fine, mate, you can be the one to help him out. I don’t mind.” He shrugged. “I helped Niall out the last time when he came.”

“Really?” Harry’s face brightened considerably.

A real smile made its way over Liam’s features, eyes crinkling at the edges in affection. “Of course, Haz.” He nodded to Zayn and left the room. Zayn followed the movement with his eyes, tracing Liam’s path out. It was a blow to his pride that someone would openly decline helping him out, but that seemed to be how Liam rolled. And besides, Harry did seem quite eager to be with him, but Zayn suspected that that was just the way that Harry was. He didn’t mind, though. At least Harry was a semi-familiar face, and Zayn was comfortable with him already. He had a feeling that they’d get along very well.

When the front door slamming shut signaled Liam’s departure, Zayn turned to Harry. Trying not to appear too nosy, he asked, “What’s Liam’s power?”

Harry smirked, leaning his chair back on two legs. “That’s not my business,” he told Zayn. “That’s Liam’s information to tell you.”

“He doesn’t seem…” Zayn searched for an acceptable term.

“Friendly?” Harry supplied. When Zayn nodded, he went on, “Nah, Liam’s alright. He’s just a bit more moody than your average bloke. He’ll come around.” He twisted in the seat to look at the clock behind himself, turning back to Zayn with an encouraging grin. “Why don’t you go on up to our room? We have the biggest one, since there’re four of us, and Josh and Nick share the other. Once you go up, it’s the second room on the left. Then you can hang out a bit, come on down, and we can take a little tour around the property.” With that, Harry patted Liam on the back and left the dining room for the adjacent kitchen, talking to Paul about how much salad they’d have to make for dinner.

Zayn stood from the table and headed in the general direction of the stairs he’d spotted earlier on when he’d come into the house, looking at the family-style pictures of people that lined the walls. There were a few of Harry laughing at something that someone out of the frame had said, and another had a blonde boy and a handsome boy with darker hair and a few tattoos on his arms. The two boys had bright grins on their sweaty faces, arms slung around each other.  A caption below it said Josh and Ni, 2012 in crisp handwriting. Another row of pictures had Paul with some older dark-haired man with a small smile, and it was all so much to take in. Zayn wondered if he’d ever be on the wall like that.

He sighed, remembering the squalor that was his apartment back in the city. Its entire square footage was only a fraction of the size of a room in this house. It’d been dank and moldy and devoid of anything but a few drawings sticky-tacked to the walls. This, by stark comparison, was almost stiflingly warm, full of personality and character and to Zayn, it felt like home.

He hadn’t had a home in far too long.

Harry had said it was the second room on the left, and turned that way once he’d fully ascended the steps, still looking around at the walls that had painted handprints scattered across their surfaces and burn marks from some long-ago incident. The place was just as unclean as the city, but the homey kind.

He found the door and was about to walk through the opening, but something hit his nose and he looked up, confused. There hung four streamers that nearly touched the ground. One was bright red, another was silvery gray, the third was a deep blue, and the last was dark green. There was a gap after that one, which made the entire display look uncomfortably asymmetrical.

Zayn ducked under the hangings and looked around; the room was warm and open, with three sets of bunk beds that were laid out against the walls. He looked around at the open beds, seeing one closest to the door that had no personalization.

He dropped his stuff on the empty bunk; it was the bottom one, a welcome feeling for him. The bunk above him had a green quilt and the ceiling had those little wall stickers on it; these were little shamrocks. He smiled at the slightly childish sheets that poked up from beneath the quilt. They were little spaceships, surrounded by blue explosions.

"I'll have you know that that is a very masculine pattern."

Zayn jumped in surprise and whirled to face the source of the voice, looking up at the top bunk at the opposite corner of the room. There, an auburn-haired boy with a small smirk on his lips lounged on starship sheets of his own. "Are you Louis or Niall, then?" Zayn inquired, having already met his other two roommates.

The boy put down the phone he’d been on, fixing Zayn with bright blue-green eyes. “I’m Louis Tomlinson, and I think that the spaceships are pretty badass.” He squinted for a second, seemingly deep in thought before he looked back at Zayn. “Though Nick chose them, so I’m not exactly sure about him.”

“Nick?” Zayn inquired, because he was pretty damn tired of people talking about things he didn’t know about. He remembered Harry mentioning the name.

Louis waved that off with a snort, rolling over so that he could hop off from the bunk, landing with ease on the floor. He was just a bit shorter than Zayn and delicate in appearance. “Nick is a prick, remember that. That’s all you need to know,” he assured Zayn, patting him on the shoulder in a way that seemed parental and sage in nature. “Welcome to the little home away from reality, young Zayn.”

“You know me?” Zayn asked.

“We all do. We’ve known you’ve been coming for a while. We even got the doorway ready for you, see?” He pointed at the doorway with the streamers, and Zayn walked back over to it and picked up one of the hanging pennants. Upon closer inspection, the streamer’s shimmering silver appearance was, actually, a composite. It was a white cloth initially, but Zayn could see that the name ‘Louis’ was stitched into it all down its length in perfect script, over and over again, all in fine silver thread of various shades. It created that illusion of shimmering color that had so intrigued him. The one next to it, the deep blue one, was similar, only it bore the name ‘Niall’ in bold cobalt. Similar inspection yielded Harry’s name emblazoned on the green one and Liam’s in the bright red.

“This is amazing,” Zayn whispered, rubbing his fingers along the length of the red streamer.

“It is, isn’t it?” Louis replied proudly. Zayn turned to him and nodded.

“So why is there a gap here?” he asked.

Louis raised an eyebrow. “I just told you, didn’t I?” he burst in reply. When Zayn offered no sign of remembering any such event, Louis gestured towards the gap at the end of the row. “That one is for you when we figure out your power.”

“Oh,” Zayn beamed, feeling warmth growing in his chest. “I get my own?”

“Of course!” Louis exclaimed, and Zayn could swear that his face was going numb from all of his smiling. The smaller boy touched the silvery streamer for a moment before turning back to Zayn. “So what exactly do you think about the starship sheets?” he asked with his eyes narrowed in a thinly veiled challenge.

Zayn shrugged, feeling that the safe answer was the way to go with this Louis Tomlinson. “They’re pretty wicked,” he amended, and breathed out a sigh of relief when Louis grinned and slapped his arm, his bright blue-green eyes crinkling with his face.

“You’re all right, Malik,” Louis exclaimed. “You’re just fine, indeed.”

***

An hour later found Zayn following Harry along winding gravel paths on the massive property, where Harry pointed out landmarks along the way.

“There’s the well, and there’s the entrance to the forest. I like it there; it’s a good place to practice using your power without being disturbed. And up ahead is the best view you’ll get in the whole property!” Harry continued to chatter on about this and that, pointing at a certain tree or a particular small ditch – “I broke my arm in there, did you know?” – until they reached a rise at the far end of the property.

Zayn sat down on the large, flat rock that met him there, finally getting the chance to look out at the valley. It was truly a massive property. The slope of the rise rushed down into the large expanse of rolling green grass. On the far side of the field was a line of trees and bushes that were similar to the forest on the other end of the property. In the center of the field was a cleared area that was well-trodden and had a few burn marks on it, and on the left wall of the valley, a stone door led into what looked like a bunker.

Zayn hummed in approval. This was impressive.

“That’s one of our youngest members, other than me. And that’s our training instructor, Simon,” Harry explained, breaking into his thoughts and gesturing over the rise into the valley.

There, a tall, dark-haired man, apparently Simon, raised a spear that suddenly crackled with electricity, the blue sparks evident even from the top of the rise. Opposite him was a boy with a shock of blonde hair visible from the top of the ridge. He was wearing all black, even down to the gloves on his hands, and he had a similar spear in his hand.

“To be honest,” Harry commented off-handedly, “I really prefer a good club to a spear any day. But, you know, to each his own.”

Zayn blinked, watching owlishly. “Remind me again why you all use weapons and fight each other,” he muttered to Harry.

“Y’know, warriors? Humans with powers of the natural world? Ring a bell?” Harry knocked lightly on Zayn’s head, disrupting the finely quaffed hairs there. Zayn flinched involuntarily, trying to save the state of his hair. “Anyway,” Harry continued blithely, unaware of Zayn’s fight to save his hairstyle, “we like to stay in top form. It keeps us ready for battling any opposing factions of our kind, and it’s just fun in general. You’ll love it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Zayn muttered, wondering how this had become his life.

“Using the energy of nature takes out a bit as it is expelled,” Harry told him knowledgeably, pointing at a clump of withered bushes that twisted towards the edge of the clearing. “You know, like the second law of thermodynamics. Useless energy can only increase, and it flows from a concentrated source. In this case, it’s the life force of the world.”

Zayn nodded silently, not bothering to answer for fear of spurring Harry on again. He turned his attention back to the valley; the blonde was hefting his spear, holding it slightly aloft as he crouched lower to the ground, spreading his legs for leverage.

“Now what?” Zayn asked Harry despite his promise to himself to not talk to the talkative young boy.

The corners of Harry’s thin lips tugged upward. “They fight,” he told Zayn, and that was when Zayn shocked himself on his own skin.

The air was suddenly supercharged with what felt like static electricity to the thousandth power, a veritable lightning storm of unseen force. Zayn watched the arcs of electricity that danced along the length of Simon’s spear, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck and his arms stand up on end.

The blonde boy braced himself, holding his spear out in front of him, and then Simon leaped. The man seemed to cover the distance between them with unnatural speed, and the boy rose to meet him, raising his spear to catch Simon’s blow on the wood between his hands. Zayn hissed a breath in, watching the two males continue to fight. He’d seen a fair amount of brawls in his day, even with knives, but this was unlike anything he’d seen before. Here, the two opponents moved with a type of fluidity and grace, and he was in awe.

Simon twisted away from a jab from the blonde, raising his spear and then plunging it into the ground. An arc of electricity bolted out from the spear, heading right to the blonde boy.

Zayn stood up, opening his mouth to scream because this boy was about to be killed, but Harry grabbed his arm and at the same time, the blonde threw aside his spear and thrust his hands out in front of himself. A wall of water burst from the palms of his hands, spreading out into a wall that met the electricity and burst, the air crackling with the smell of ozone and metal.

And it was all in a split second.

The boy pumped his fist in victory and Simon clapped, setting his spear down to approach the blonde and pat him on the back in a congratulatory gesture. The two of them began to walk towards the edge of the valley wall, towards the rise where Zayn and Harry stood.

“In case you were wondering,” Harry told him quietly, “that’s what water power is.”

Zayn hummed in response, watching as Simon and the still unnamed boy began to climb up the rise with surprising ease.

“There are steps carved into the valley walls,” Harry explained, seeing Zayn’s confusion. “Really quite useful, if you ask me.”

The two males crested the rise quickly, slightly out of breath and looking cheerful. The boy was laughing at something that Simon had said. They approached Zayn and Harry, offering bright smiles to the pair. Upon closer inspection, Zayn realized that Simon was the darker-haired man that he had seen in the photographs with Paul back at the house.

“So I see that you’ve gotten your first taste of life at the valley,” Simon said as way of greeting. “I take it that you’ve been told what’s going on here.”

Zayn laughed nervously. “To a point, yeah.”

Harry clapped his hand on Zayn’s shoulder reassuringly. “This is Zayn, by the way.”

“Yeah, I heard,” the boy spoke up, his voice revealing a bit of an Irish lilt. Zayn observed him quietly as he came closer. His blonde hair was quaffed upward, revealing the dark brown underneath the bleached tips. “Niall,” he introduced himself, removing the gloves and reaching out to shake Zayn’s hand. Zayn shook it, feeling at ease with the softly smiling young man. His hand felt slightly wet, which was disconcerting because Zayn wasn’t sure if it was from sweat or from the display that he’d just seen.

Niall seemed to notice his puzzlement, because he chuckled. “It takes some getting used to, I know,” he told Zayn, patting him on the back reassuringly. “When I first came here, I was so panicked that I tried to drown everybody, and I nearly succeeded. That’s how I found out about my power. Compared to me, you’re doing great.”

“Oh,” Zayn replied, bemused. “Good to know.”

The blonde smiled again, his eyes bright and cheerful. “Is it dinnertime?” he asked suddenly, changing the subject abruptly. “Battle practice always wears me the fuck out.”

“Niall, can you please not with the language?” Simon asked exasperatedly, but it was clear that this was a regular occurrence that could not be prevented. To Zayn, the exchange seemed more habitual than anything.

“Oi, Simon, you love it,” Niall teased, and he laughed, a pleasant sound that had Zayn feeling happier himself. “Come on, let’s get home. I’m starving.”

When Zayn and Harry entered the house again with Niall and Simon in tow, the smell of cooking meat drifted to meet them. Paul emerged from the kitchen with a smile, greeting the four men as they toed off their shoes by the entryway. “Zayn, I wasn’t entirely sure, but is chicken alright for you?”

Zayn nodded, happy that Paul would think of him before making the food. “Yeah, chicken’s perfect,” he replied, and Paul smiled.

“Perfect!” he exclaimed. “I marinated it.”

Niall punched a fist in the air from behind Zayn, hissing out a “yes” of victory. “That fucking chicken,” he told Zayn with great zeal, “is the best thing that you will ever eat.”

Harry looked mildly bemused. “I was under the impression that you thought that hot dogs were the best thing I’ll ever eat.”

The blonde shrugged. “Things change,” he replied flippantly, and he strode into the kitchen. Harry and Simon followed behind.

Zayn stood still in the foyer, unsure of whether or not he should follow. He still felt awkward about the whole situation. He was saved, thankfully, by a loud pounding on the stairs and a subsequent launching of a warm body onto his back.

“Hello, lovely!” Louis cooed into his ear, wrapping his legs around Zayn’s waist as Zayn staggered around under his weight. “Ready for dinner?”

“I would be if you’d get off of me,” Zayn growled, not feeling entirely at ease. “Jesus, man, get off!”

Louis chuckled and hopped off of Zayn’s back, patting him heartily on the shoulder. “Young Zayn, one thing that you need to know about living here is that you must expect attacks from any angle. Consider this a warning, so you’ll be more prepared next time.”

Zayn raised his eyebrows but relented regardless, resigning himself to a fate of impromptu piggyback rides demanded by this Louis character. Somehow, it still felt like home. The familiarity was refreshing.

“C’mon, Zaynie, it’s time for dinner.” Louis grabbed his arm and led him through the foyer and into the kitchen, where a large table was set up. Already, Niall, Harry, Paul, and Simon were sitting around it in wooden chairs, and there were two other males seated as well.

Paul gestured to the two, following Zayn’s gaze. “Zayn, these two are Josh and Nick. They live in the other room.”

“Nick’s a twat,” Louis added matter-of-factly, slinging an arm around Zayn’s shoulders.

The darker-haired one, Nick, smirked at Louis. “You’ve got such a crush on me, darling,” he purred.

Louis scoffed. “Spreading my legs for you, sweetheart,” he drawled in return.

Zayn watched the exchange with great curiosity, his eyes bouncing from Nick to Louis and back quickly, like a tennis match. He glanced up and met Josh’s amused gaze; the older boy shrugged with a grin. Apparently, this was a fairly common occurrence in the household.

“Okay, boys, enough,” Simon instructed, and he gestured to the two chairs that remained open at the table. “Louis and Zayn, come on and sit.”

Louis grabbed Zayn’s elbow and dragged him towards the seats, pushing him down next to Niall. He sat, and Louis pushed in on his other side. Niall grinned with straight white teeth, and his pale blue eyes were friendly.

“How are you settling in?” Simon asked warmly as Paul brought a large plate of chicken to the table.

Zayn smiled shyly at the stern-faced man, then back down at his plate. “Just fine. Thank you.”

“Good.” Simon looked satisfied.

“Yeah, so welcome to your new home, Zayn,” Niall announced, clapping him on the back in a way that was already so familiar, like they were best friends from the second they met. Honestly, Zayn didn’t mind that.

He looked around at the others at the table, the men that watched him with varying degrees of smiles on their lips. In that moment, he felt completely, utterly at home.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Nick asked, a mischievous grin on his lips. “Eat!”

And Zayn obliged with gusto, eating the first fully cooked, fresh meal that he’d had in a long, long time.

It felt very, very good.

“So you’re the new one,” Nick drawled after they ate in comfortable silence for a while. Zayn looked up at him, raising his eyebrows in question as he nodded. “It there anything that you want to know?”

Zayn shrugged, picking at a stray piece of chicken with his fork. “Is there anything that I should know?”

“Try to avoid Louis. He will not hesitate to violate you,” Harry told him sagely.

Josh grinned softly before saying, “Don’t ever ask Harry to tell you a story; you’ll be there for ages just hearing about the nuances of his oatmeal!”

“Hey!” Harry yelled indignantly, throwing a pea at Josh good-naturedly. Josh stuck his tongue out at him with a laugh.

“Just don’t be like Liam and set your friends on fire, and you’ll be fine!” Nick chirped.

The table went silent.

“Did not see that one coming,” Louis muttered quietly, picking at his food carefully.

Zayn hazarded a look around the table, seeing that all eyes were focused in one direction. He turned towards the person that everyone was so cautiously eying.

Liam’s eyes were dark, glaring down at the table. “I have to go,” he muttered, and he pushed up from his seat and left the room.

“What just happened?” Zayn asked warily once the door to the house had slammed shut in Liam’s wake.

“Oh, something I said has set him off again,” Nick sighed, shaking his head sadly. He returned to his meal and resumed sawing through the piece of meat on his plate. “I thought he’d try to restrain himself tonight.”

“I thought that all of you would try to restrain yourselves,” Simon growled from the head of the table. “Especially when Zayn is new here. You shouldn’t just say things that you know will anger Liam.”

Niall set his fork down, glaring over at Simon. “I wasn’t aware that we were the ones responsible for poor Liam’s mood swings,” he retorted, sounding scornful. Zayn watched the exchange uneasily, unsure of what to do. Next to him, Harry had frozen, his eyes flickering in fear between Niall and Simon. Louis, on Zayn’s other side, seemed far more amused than worried, and he took a similar approach to Nick’s, simply returning to his food happily.

“Niall Horan, don’t take that tone,” Simon warned. “You know how it is.”

“Liam shouldn’t be the fucking exception!” Niall yelled, slamming his palm flat on the table. “I’m sick and tired of it. Liam gets in trouble, and it’s always ‘oh, you know how Liam is’ or whatever. I’m fucking sick of it!”

Zayn quietly scooted his chair backwards and got up from the table, unsure of whether or not he should be intruding on the conversation. Josh gave him an apologetic shrug from across the table and Zayn took the hint, slipping out of the room and into the main foyer of the house.

Loud voices still echoed through the house, but with a door separating them, it seemed so far away. Zayn picked up his jacket from the coat rack that was placed next to the door and shrugged it on, heading out the front door with the intent to find Liam.

It was brisk outside, not too cold but not warm either, and Zayn was glad for his foresight when he’d grabbed the jacket, pulling the warm leather folds up around his neck to protect himself from the chilly breeze. He trotted along the barely discernible trail that Harry had showed him on his tour of the property earlier on in the day, searching for some place where Liam could possibly be.

“Jesus, fuck,” he swore as he tripped across a small ditch. He looked down in annoyance, nearly laughing when he realized that it was the little ditch where Harry had broken his arm. For a moment, he really, truly chuckled to himself at the coincidence before setting out again.

It took ten minutes, but he found Liam at the top of the ridge where Harry had taken him earlier, at the rock that was flat and wide. His eyes were assaulted by red.

It all made sense. The red streamer, the temper in Liam’s eyes, and the burn marks in the house.

Red.

Liam’s body was a mere silhouette in the darkness, surrounded by flickering fire. The flames arced off of his hands, his legs, and licked at the tips of his hair.

It was magnificent and beautiful and full of fury, and there was stillness in the air, like the world’s breath was taken away by the brilliance of the flames. He could practically feel the frustration that was poured into the flames, radiating in red-hot waves from Liam.

“Fuck,” Zayn whispered in awe.

He had figured out Liam’s power.

He edged closer, trying to stay out of sight, but his foot caught a brittle branch and it snapped.

Liam’s head, still surrounded by a haze of heat and flame, twitched almost imperceptibly towards where Zayn was. Zayn knew he’d been caught. He quickly backtracked, heading back to the house at a speed that he blamed on guilt rather than fear. But he couldn’t lie to himself.

He’d been afraid of Liam.

***

When Liam returned from the rock, it was nearly midnight and the living room was quickly becoming Zayn’s favorite room in the house. It was warm, but not overwhelmingly so, and the large windows let in the cool nighttime wind and faint starshine. He sat in one of the large winged armchairs with his legs tucked beneath him, eagerly rereading one of his favorite classics that he’d read in school. The light was low, with only the stars and a small lamp illuminating the pages. He barely noticed the front door open quietly, let alone when Liam entered the room.

“Hey.”

Zayn looked up, startled. “Liam,” he greeted the other boy, closing the book. He was unsure of what else to say; coming out right off the bat and saying ‘I followed you out of the house and couldn’t help but notice that you were on fire’ seemed a bit forwards, even for him. He settled for expectant silence in Liam’s presence.

The taller boy seemed to notice Zayn waiting and cleared his throat. “So you saw me,” he said, and it was no question; it was an answer, maybe even a command.

“I did.”

“Did you want to run?” Liam’s eyes were probing and amber in the glow of the lamp. Their intensity made Zayn shiver.

Zayn stared at him for a few moments. “For a moment, yes.”

Liam’s expression was unreadable. He turned for a moment when two of the dogs trotted into the room, one of them being Loki and the other being a small, fluffy brown dog that ran to Zayn and hopped up on the chair with him. “That’s Hatchi,” Liam said quietly, glancing down at Loki, who’d sat down by Liam’s leg.

Zayn looked down at the little dog, grinning as he scratched the canine behind his ears. Then, still petting Hatchi, he turned his attention back to Liam. “You changed the subject.” When Liam did not reply, Zayn frowned “What set you off?”

Dark eyes flicked around nervously, and Liam ran his hand through his short strands of hair. “I don’t like when people talk about my power – about me – like that. Like I’m an explosive just waiting to blow.” There was a hint of anger in his voice.

“So why don’t you tell them that instead of running off and setting yourself on fire?” Zayn retorted, and Liam’s brows furrowed. For a second, just for a second, Zayn could’ve sworn that Liam’s fingers flickered with flame.

“I can’t just do that, Zayn,” Liam growled, turning to pace the shadowed length of the living room, his tall shadow weaving across the walls. “They don’t understand…they don’t trust me anymore. They treat me like glass and then say it’s my fault when they break me.”

Zayn curled up a bit more in his armchair, intrigued by the sudden display of emotion from the quieter boy. “What was Nick talking about, with setting friends on fire?”

Liam turned back to him, his eyes pained. “I made mistakes,” he said. “That’s all you need to know.”

“Sorry,” Zayn said quietly. He carefully picked up Hatchi and set the small dog on the ground, standing up from the armchair quickly. “I’ll be going to bed now.”

He felt Liam’s eyes on him as he left, and the burn of them pursued him until he was out of range and headed up the stairs.

The bunk beneath Niall’s was cool and comfortable, and the mattress was nothing short of heavenly. Zayn lay in his new bed, listening to the quiet breathing of his new roommates long after all of them, even Liam, had gone to sleep.

How had this all happened in the span of a single day?

***

Liam’s dark eyes gleamed at him, and Zayn shivered as the taller boy got closer, his broad form pressing up against his.

“Liam,” he murmured weakly.

“No.” Liam shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. “You think too much. Let it happen.” He leaned forward, one hand raising to grasp the back of his neck firmly. Zayn tried to squirm out of the touch, but only ended up getting closer to Liam. The scent of him was intoxicating.

He tried to push away, but somehow his efforts only allowed Liam to pull him in closer.

“I want you,” Zayn gasped, “but I’m scared.”

Liam smiled wickedly. “You should be,” he hissed, and he smashed his lips to Zayn’s. Heat suddenly overwhelmed them, and Zayn was surrounded by fire, by inescapable flames, and Liam was laughing, laughing and holding Zayn tightly as the fire rose and Zayn screamed–

“Hey, mate, calm down!”

Zayn forced his eyes open, his chest heaving. A blonde halo framed a wide-eyed face above him in the darkness. “Niall,” he murmured, relieved. He tried to soothe his pounding heart. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“No problem.” Niall’s bright blue eyes blinked tiredly. “It’s hard getting used to a new home, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn echoed, and Niall grinned.

“Don’t worry, Zayn. You’ll settle in soon. I did.”

Zayn said, “Thanks, Niall. It means a lot.” Niall nodded and then his head retreated back to the heights of the top bunk, ducking out of view. Zayn sighed and stared up at the upper bunk, stretching to fold his arms behind his head. The whole situation he was in was the most fucked up thing that he’d ever been in.

He tried to ignore the fact that Liam’s bunk was right across the room, parallel to his. It was harder than he expected.

***

To put it lightly, breakfast the next morning was one of the tensest events that Zayn had ever had the extreme misfortune of sitting through. Though everyone greeted Zayn warmly when he walked sleepily into the kitchen, there was a palpable worry running through the group.

“Are we waiting for something?” Zayn asked lightly, unsure of his boundaries in this new place.

Nick grinned and patted him patronizingly on the back. “We always are, Zayn. It’s just that this time, it’s a far more unavoidable something.”

Zayn blinked at the older man. Furrowing his brow, he asked, “And what would that something be?”

“That’s just the thing, isn’t it?” Nick replied cheerfully, tucking into a bowl of Cheerios that he’d poured. “This time, it’s Liam and Niall. As per usual.”

“Don’t go giving yourself credit all at once, Grimshaw,” a new voice scoffed, and Zayn glanced up to see Niall picking at a piece of bacon. “You set him off. I just was the one that started yelling about it.”

Nick waved a hand airily. “Details,” he dismissed Niall. “Liam expects this kind of abuse from me. You, on the other hand, are most definitely the type to hold a grudge. And now you’re angry at Liam.”

Niall frowned. “And you know why.”

“Am I interrupting something?”

All eyes in the kitchen turned to the door, where a very shirtless Liam stood in just a pair of sweatpants.

Zayn swallowed and reached for the bowl of fruit on the kitchen table, biting into an orange to take away from the unexpected image that was now seared in his mind. He shook his head mentally, scolding himself already. Fuck, it’d only been a day, and he was already starstruck.

“Nothing worth talking about,” Niall said smoothly, and Liam let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry about last night, Niall,” he murmured. “You know that, Ni. Please, I was just stressed and having Nick say that in front of somebody new–” Zayn lifted his head at the indirect reference to him “– I was freaking out.”

Niall’s pale eyes narrowed. “Not the best apology; it could’ve done without the excuses.”

Liam’s eyes were plaintive and wide, like a doe’s. This was a new side to Liam that Zayn hadn’t seen. It was interesting to see him drop the hostile, closed-off front in favor of a vulnerable young boy that was far more human. “Please, Niall.” It occurred to Zayn that Liam was worried about losing his friend.

Niall frowned and tapped his fingers lightly on the table. “Liam, just – just don’t anymore, okay?”

“Anything,” Liam replied quickly. “I swear.”

“Fine, then,” Niall sighed, seemingly done with the conversation. “Yeah, we’re good, Liam.” Before Liam could stutter any more words of thanks, he slipped out of the kitchen, leaving an even more tense silence than before.

Liam sighed in resignation and poured himself a glass of orange juice, fetching an omelet from the stove where Paul stood. He sat himself down across from Zayn at the table, picking stiffly at his food. Zayn watched him curiously until he looked up and asked sourly, “Is there something that you want?”

“Nothing at all,” Zayn replied quickly, opting to remove himself from the kitchen before his roommate’s foul mood got worse.

He slipped up to the bedroom, leaning against the door wearily. He was beginning to regret his choice to stay with this dysfunctional family of men. There was too much testosterone in the house to be healthy.

“Trouble in paradise, hm?”

Zayn jumped in surprise, turning around quickly. Louis had appeared behind him, and he held out a plate to Zayn. “You forgot to eat, man. You have to eat a lot to keep your energy up. We do a lot of work here.”

“Is that so?” Zayn mumbled, chewing on a bite of bacon while Louis slid past him into the bedroom. “I look forward to it.”

“No you don’t,” Louis scoffed. “It’s no fun.” He tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head. When he turned away from Zayn to grab a new shirt from the dresser against the wall, Zayn saw angry red scars covering most of Louis’s back. They were only slightly raised and were turning to discolored white scar tissue on the edges, but they still looked painful.  He tried to keep his surprise in check, but Louis turned to him and caught him staring. “Having a look, eh?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Zayn looked down at his plate. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

“No problem.” Louis shrugged and put on the new shirt. “It was an accident, if that was what you were wondering. A bit of trouble with fire.”

Zayn frowned. “Is that what Nick was talking about, with setting friends on fire?”

Louis’s blue eyes gained a shadow. He sighed, “That’s not something that I should tell the details of, to be honest. But Liam could tell you in time.” He smirked at Zayn. “Not that I expect him to. But don’t worry about me. They don’t hurt anymore, to be honest.”

“You’re so casual about all of this.”

“There’s no reason not to be,” Louis told him. “I mean, why do you think I get along so well with everyone? I take things in stride and deal with them. Niall, on the other hand, seems to hold onto things for too long.”

“I’ll say,” Zayn muttered.

Louis pursed his lips. “Hang in there, Zayn. You’ll get used to us soon enough.” He chuckled. “Until then, good luck. I mean it, man.”

***

At least the dogs seemed to like him.

Zayn sat in the grass in front of the house, laughing as Hatchi bounded around him in little leaps, the little dog jumping on his chest every once in a while to lick his face. The dog was no more than a ball of fluff; he was astonishingly friendly. He was glad that Paul and Simon had decided to get some dogs when they’d decided to take in a wild group of boys. It tended to even out the madness.

Zayn looked up questioningly when Hatchi yipped in welcome; he got his answer quickly. Loki, Liam’s dog, was bounding towards them with his pink tongue lolling. The young dog crashed into Zayn with astonishing, clumsy bounds, licking at his face in as friendly a fashion as any.

“Well, hey, little guy,” he murmured, rubbing at the thick fur of the dog. “You’re not so bad, are you?”

Loki’s lolling tongue attacked him once more, covering his face in the slobber of an excited young dog.

“Loki!”

Zayn looked up as the call rang out; there was Liam, his broad silhouette dark against the sun.

The dog’s head jerked up at the mention of his name, and he immediately raced away from Zayn without so much as a farewell lick. Hatchi whined plaintively from beside Zayn, his tongue lolling in the heat as he tried to call back his company. Zayn absently patted the smaller creature on the head, watching Loki race over to Liam.

Liam crouched to receive the approaching pup, and a small, tight-lipped grin graced his full lips. He ruffled Loki’s ears playfully, checking him all over for – what? Wounds?  When he seemed to have ensured that Loki had not been harmed in any way, shape, or form by Zayn, he stood up, Loki lolling up at him adoringly. “Stay away from my dog,” he commanded.

Zayn furrowed his brow. Liam really was unfriendly. “Keep your dog away me, and we won’t have this problem. Or better yet, allow your dog to have some fucking freedom.”

“I do. Just not with you,” Liam replied shortly, and he headed back into the house with Loki in tow.

Zayn seethed, remembering how Harry had mentioned how Liam didn’t like people touching what was his.

It seemed that even in paradise, there was one thing off.

***

Nick gestured widely to the other microphone in the radio studio. “Ladies and gents, we have someone truly special with us today! Say hello, Zayn!”

“Hello!” Zayn called absently, too busy looking around at the admittedly sophisticated home sound booth where Nick’s radio show was recorded. It had recent technology and state-of-the-art recording equipment that was impressive in the isolated corner of the basement of the farmhouse. It was a little beacon in the middle of the dark sea of well-worn brown couches and gray televisions that filled the other part of the large basement.  
“Zayn here just moved in; he’s part of the family now! Zayn, man, how does it feel to be adopted into our crazy old family?”

Zayn leaned in towards the mic. “Yeah, it’s great, I guess,” he replied. “I mean, like, it’s not something that I expected, but it’s not something that I regret either. I just got lucky, I guess, to get such a cool family.”

“Lucky indeed.” Nick winked at him; they both knew very well that Zayn’s adoption was not by chance, but they couldn’t have the whole country knowing.

“Can I go back to bed now?” Zayn checked his watch; yep, it was still an ungodly hour of the morning. He curse Nick for having dragged him out of bed so early.

Nick smirked. “Go on, then.” As Zayn left, he heard the radio host calling, “And there goes Zayn, back to bed while we early birds party all day! Not the most exciting lad in the wee hours, is he?”

Zayn chuckled and headed wearily upstairs, flopping onto the bed with a groan of relief. As much as he liked getting to know his new housemates, he would like to do it at a more convenient time.

He was asleep again as soon as he hit the pillow.

***

“Hey, man,” Josh greeted him. He sat down on the porch steps beside Zayn, and Zayn looked up from his reading when the other boy offered him a cold soda that was already beginning to sweat in the heat of May. “Can I join you?”

Zayn carefully closed the cover of his personal edition of 1984, setting it down beside him on the splintering wood of the porch before he turned to Josh. “By all means,” he said as way of welcome, and Josh smiled and sat down.

“So tell me about yourself, Zayn,” Josh said, and Zayn raised his eyebrows, hoping for Josh to go more in-depth with his request, but the other boy just shrugged. “Anything about you. Your favorite color, best story about a rabid duck, anything.”

“Oh, of course. I have the best rabid duck story; you won’t believe it.”

Josh regarded him with a small laugh. “Sarcasm, I see,” he chuckled.

Zayn shrugged. “My favorite color is red, I guess.”

The other boy leaned back, watching Zayn intently. A small smile played across his lips. “There’s a start,” he commented. “Go on.”

So Zayn talked.

***

After the agonizing awkwardness of getting to know the rest of the household, Zayn was able to find a friend in every member of the group. Louis was good for a laugh and some admittedly filthy jokes, Harry was always dragging him into the fresh air to play some golf in the valley, and Niall usually joined in or invited Zayn to join him to watch a game on the television. Those nights were always guaranteed to be loud and full of yelling.

Liam tended to be the best sparring partner during practice, and he would always break in with a quiet, witty remark when the conversation would die down at night as they all lay in their beds chatting. Nick was a chatterbox, and he was nearly always in his studio or out and about in the city or otherwise. Paul and Simon were firm when it came to work, but they were always kind to Zayn when he had a question.

He was glad that Josh was there to give him a break from the whirlwind of Harry-Louis-Nick and Niall's energy and Liam's pensive silences. Josh just so happened to be the only one in the group with the plant power, and it suited him and his silent but social manner. It was nice that he was able to just sit and listen and be. He didn’t ask about what Zayn thought his power would be, and he didn’t pry too much when Zayn seemed uncomfortable. It was a nice change, and after such a short time Josh was quickly becoming a better friend than Danny had ever been.

They'd sit on the front porch, cold sodas sweating by their sides and a cigarette dangling from Zayn's lips. And they'd talk. It didn't matter what; some days it was about how Josh had planned to be a professional drummer before he was forced into hiding back when he was younger, and other times it was Zayn talking about his drawings and how they let him escape from the shit that had been his life before this. That was the way their friendship developed, not out of wrestling matches and loud laughter, but quiet words and bubbling cola.

Josh really was the best listener, and he'd watch Zayn's eyes with an intent unseen in anyone else while his fingers dragged absently through the dirt, willing twisting green stalks to rise a foot off the ground before they wilted again. Sometimes he would interrupt and ask a question, or push gently when Zayn hesitated, but Zayn didn't mind. It showed that someone was actually listening for once. And hell if that wasn't the best feeling in the world.

"How did they find you?" Josh asked during a lull in conversation a month after Zayn's arrival. "Harry and Paul, I mean."

Zayn dragged in a lungful of smoke, exhaling it into little circles. "They said that they examined family trees or something like that. They followed their own backward, found a common point, and worked their way back down the tree. No fireworks or anything, if that's what you were hoping to hear."

Josh laughed quietly, almost sounding wistful. "No, I'd rather you not have an experience like fireworks or anything."

"Did that happen to you?" Zayn watched Josh's jaw; he saw the way that it clenched.

"I got angry with my mom because she wouldn't let me go out and get ice cream. The next thing I knew, the potted plants next to her bed... they got her. Paul found out about the story in the news, recognized the signs, and came to get me. I was eight, and I've lived here ever since." Josh looked down at the ground, scuffing at it with already dirty knuckles.

"I'm sorry," Zayn said, because what else was there to say to a boy who had killed his mother with a force he hadn't known he had?

Josh shrugged. "I get used to it."

Zayn watched his friend carefully. “You sure?” he asked.

The other boy smiled, just a little bit. “Yeah, man,” he replied easily, his eyes pained but still warm, always warm. “We’ve all had shit in our lives, you know?”

“I know that all too well,” Zayn muttered.

“You used to live in the bad part of the city,” Josh said. It was a statement, not a question. When Zayn nodded in affirmation, he continued, “What about your parents? Siblings? Anything?”

“There used to be,” Zayn answered Josh, feeling the old forgotten lump at the base of his throat grow and bring tears to prick at his eyes. “My parents and sisters…there was a fire in our apartment complex, and I was out at my friend’s place. The whole place was ashes by the time I got the news of what had happened.”

Josh’s eyes were on him, probing and comforting at the same time. “I’m sorry,” he told Zayn sincerely. “How old were you?”

Zayn picked at the wood of the porch. “Twelve.”

“What were they like?” When Zayn looked sharply at him in a question, Josh just shrugged. “It’s good to talk about them. Grief coping and the like.”

With a slight waver in his voice that he cursed all the gods for, Zayn went on, “Well, my mum was just very, very kind. She had these warm dark eyes and she’d always be with my dad. His name was Yaser.” He wiped at the hot wetness on his cheeks. “My two little sisters, Waliyha and Safaa…they were young, too young. And Doniya too.” He sniffed, angry at himself for crying. “Sorry, man, I’m getting all emotional on you.”

“No problem, Zayn,” Josh told him, and Zayn felt comfortable with the older boy. He felt like Josh was the most trustworthy friend he’d ever had.

“Thanks, man,” Zayn said. “Honestly.”

Josh smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

***

Zayn liked to think that he was settling in well.

He’d fallen into a routine that seemed to be echoed by the other boys. He would get up, have breakfast, do a bit of work in his assigned biology book, and then he’d have lunch with the rest of the guys. Sometimes, Harry or Niall would join him in studying – Harry for sociology and Niall in music tech – but eventually their quiet sessions would digress to Harry flicking him in the ear and Niall trying to play baseball with his pencil and eraser.

It was great.

Sometimes, Simon would take him out to the valley with the other boys, and he’d show Zayn how to hold a spear or a club or sword, and Zayn would practice on the dummies there while the others sparred with each other.

Around him, Liam would twist and send fire through his sword while Louis deflected with a sharp burst of air that would extinguish the blaze, and the air would crackle with electricity and hang heavy with smoke.

And Zayn would be left with a regular sword and regular hands while the other boys shot water at each other and tripped each other up with vines, but he tried to ignore it. His time would come.

But even though this place felt like home, Zayn had never felt so different.

He dealt with it, though.

Eventually, hopefully, he would be one of them soon.

Until then, he hoped that he could grow some fucking wings or something to fit in.

***

“Hi.”

Zayn looked up from his sketchbook, adjusting his glasses on his nose. Liam stood in front of his bunk, looking down at him nervously. “Hi, Liam,” he said, setting the book aside and scooting forward on the bed. “What can I do for you?”

His roommate looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Listen, Zayn, I’ve been a bit of a dick to you lately. And I know that it hasn’t exactly been the best welcome to the valley. So basically, I was wondering if we could start over again.”

“You’re a confusing bastard, you know that?”

Liam snorted a bit, rubbing at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Zayn held out his hand. “Yeah, you’ve got a deal.”

Liam shook it, a small grin gracing his features. His eyes glittered happily. “Thanks, man.”

***

“Boys, tonight we will rule the world!”

“I doubt that, Lou, but the colors will still be pretty.”

“Fuck off, Niall.”

Zayn grinned and unloaded another box that held the spoils for their evening. It was a perfect night for their fireworks display; summer was beginning and the nighttime air was warm and a cool breeze wafted around. It was ideal. Zayn suspected that there might have been a bit of manipulation of the weather to keep the wind and rain at bay, but as long as it didn’t ruin the night, he was cool with it. He was used to the blatant uses of powers by now.

Nick had gone out earlier in the day, driving back into the valley with a truckload of pyrotechnics that were surely illegal for all the right reasons. But Zayn still had to admit that he was impressed.

They line up great rows of them, arranged according to when they should go off. There was a bit of banter between the boys as they bickered about what they wanted to see first and last.

“Save the big red one for the end,” Nick insisted, pointing at one of the most impressive displays of pyrotechnic engineering that Zayn had ever seen. “Can you imagine going to sleep with that baby burned into your retinas?”

“I’d rather not, actually,” Zayn drawled, “as tempting as that sounds. Unlike you, some of us need our sleep.”

Nick pouted, seeming more like a five year old child than any of the rest of them. That made a large and important statement, seeing as he was the oldest one in their group by about ten years. He was still a big baby at heart, though, and that was what made him so fun. “So what are we going to finish with?”

Louis crouched down next to the cluster of fireworks, inspecting the label attached to a particular pack. “Well, considering that this is labeled as ‘Final Cluster’ I think that it should take its rightful place at the end of the order.” He moved the pack to where it should be and smiled triumphantly. “There, boys, now you’ve got the perfect order!”

“Our hero,” Niall chuckled, and Louis smacked him on the head.

“Hush, you.”

When they’d gotten the array completed, they all stood around the crates and boxes, looking at the shells and rockets that would soon be fired off into the sky.

“No time like the present,” Josh said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Niall nodded, and Liam extended his hand and summoned the fire from within him. He touched his finger to the group of fireworks and, like a candle-lighting ceremony, lit the first fuse.

For a second, they all just stood there, watching the fuse burn down, down, down. But then Zayn’s brow furrowed and he said, “Shouldn’t we get out of here?”

“Oi, boys, off we go!” Harry yelled, and they took off into the trees, running from the imminent explosion.

The running was the best part, and they went like they had an army at their heels. Over tree stumps and bushes they jumped and swerved, and even though it was dark outside, Zayn knew that this time he would not fall. It was the heat of the moment, the thrill of the chase, and Zayn had never felt more alive.

Harry and Louis and Niall and Nick were whooping, running and jumping through the trees like animals, and Josh laughed along with them, tugging Zayn along with a grin that shone in the dark and told him that he wouldn’t want to miss this.

The sky lit up in a flash of red.

Zayn’s ears exploded with sound.

“Yes!” Niall screamed from ahead, pumping his fist in the air, and they were running beneath the fireworks now, their paths lit by the flashes and falling embers.

They burst into a clearing, their chests heaving and legs burning. Above them, fire burst and whistled through the air, lighting their heads so that Niall’s hair was a halo of glowing white and Louis’s auburn hair shone like copper.

Zayn crashed into the person in front of him, looking down from the sky to say sorry. Instead, he was captivated. He’d run into Liam.

Liam’s eyes were bright, and his hoots of admiration and excitement were shouted with just as much reckless abandon as any other one of the boys. In the time that Zayn had been at the valley, he had never once seen Liam so happy. The younger boy turned to him suddenly, and Zayn’s breath was taken away.

Liam was smiling.

His lips were parted as an aftereffect of a yell, and his teeth glinted in their full glory, finally pulling free from the shelter of Liam’s thick pink lips. Liam’s cheeks were bunched up underneath his eyes – oh god, his eyes. The dark brown of them was all lit up by the fireworks and by exhilaration, but the color was barely visible because the skin around Liam’s eyes was all crinkled up in the most beautifully magnificent way.

And he was beautiful.

For a moment, Zayn was in free-fall, the weight of the moment knocking him on his heels so that he did not know what was up and what was down; all he wanted to focus on was committing this picture of Liam’s face to his memory.

But then the sky exploded into noise again, and Liam turned away to laugh at something that Louis had yelled, and Zayn was jerked from his reverie. He rejoined the group, jumping and pointing at the firework that looked like a bright weeping willow tree.

Niall grabbed his arm and gestured towards the sky as the final cluster of fireworks shot into the air, whistling as they went.

They burst with amazing fire, assaulting Zayn’s ears with the sound of gunshots and cannons and home. The boys laughed around him, and Zayn was pulled underneath the arms of someone on each side. He grinned.

The world was beautiful.

***

The world was horrible.

The world was horrible and cruel and bitter, and it seemed to be hell-bent on ruining every part of Zayn’s life.

Zayn kind of had seen it coming, but the blow hurt just the same and it had hit him in the middle of breakfast in the middle of his perusing of the daily paper from back in the city.

“You okay?”

Zayn squinted up at Liam’s towering figure in the sun, staring at the tall boy before lowering his eyes to stare out at the valley instead. “How’d you find me?”

Liam blinked. “I come here when something’s bothering me too. I figured that if you weren’t at the house or with the boys, you’d be alone. I was right.” He lowered himself down onto the rock beside Zayn, crossing his legs beneath him crisscross style. “So I’m guessing you’re not okay.”

“Why do you care?” Zayn snapped, and immediately afterwards regretted the venom in his words. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“S’okay,” Liam replied with equal half-heartedness, like he was starting to regret coming over to find Zayn in the first place. “So what brings you here?”

“I, uh, I looked in the obituaries in the newspaper from back in the city,” Zayn began around the lump in his throat.

Liam’s eyebrows creased together in consternation. “Why would you do that?” he asked.

Zayn looked down at the smooth gray of the rock, rapping it nervously with his knuckles. “I always figured that, somehow, that’d be where my friends would end up. I mean, look where we are and how we live. Our lives are just drugs and sex and not caring; someone was bound to die eventually.” He swallowed, feeling the burning sting of salty tears on his eyes. “Today, that came true.”

“Zayn…” Liam murmured, and that seemed like that was all he could say. Zayn couldn’t blame him; what else could he say when he barely knew Zayn?

“It was–” Zayn stopped himself and cleared his throat, trying to rid his throat of tears. “It was Ant. He overdosed on sleeping pills.”

The sharp intake of breath from Liam was what broke Zayn and shattered the wall that he had built between the sick horrid reality of life and the beautiful haven that was the valley. Suddenly, painfully, it became real. Ant was dead. Zayn was alive.

Ant was dead.

“Suicide?”

Liam’s voice cut through the pregnant silence like a blade. The single word was pain, an agony inflicted on Zayn. He flinched.

“So they say,” he said, feeling the words tear his throat like shards of broken glass.

A sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Zayn laughed, and it wasn’t himself. “So they say.”

“Are you going to go back?”

“If I have a ride, I’m going,” Zayn told him quietly, bluntly; painfully. “And…if I could have some moral support, that’d be–”

“We’ll all go with you.”

Zayn looked up in surprise. This wasn’t like Liam. His face was still unyielding and stern, but his words were kind and his eyes were soft. A wall had broken in Liam, and it seemed like a little bit of a human was shining through again. “Really?” he asked in shock.

Liam nodded, and he looked more determined than Zayn had ever seen him. “I’ll tell everybody.”

With that, he got up and left.

Zayn was torn between the overwhelming gratitude for what Liam was doing for him and the pain of losing his best friend. It seemed like the death of Ant was worse now than it ever could’ve been back when he’d been living in the city. This time, it was the shock that brought him back to reality and reminded him in no uncertain terms that life was not, in fact, perfect.

So he let the tears fall.

He did not notice when Liam came back.

He did not care when Liam stayed with him.

He just cried.

***

The car ride back to the city was surreal, to say the least. The most notable part about it was that it was spent in near total silence. Already, Nick and Simon were absent from the car, Nick from the flu and Simon because he had to go to a meeting about the boys’ learning paths, so the atmosphere was dulled significantly.

Up front while Paul drove, Josh sat in the passenger seat and his hands twitched nervously in his lap. They danced from the dashboard to the seat to the tops of Josh’s legs, banging quietly until the volume of the action was realized and the hands withdrawn. And then, a few minutes later, a faint tapping could be heard.

Nudged up against the door in the first back row, Zayn tried to draw warmth from the comforting bulk of Harry beside him. The skinny boy was sitting close; Zayn was glad that Harry’d had enough sense to not actively try to comfort him, but the placement of his body was careful and deliberate. If Zayn were in a less catatonic state, he would have nudged himself closer; he’d do anything for the refreshing warmth of another body. But then there’d be the imminent and unavoidable flash of all the times when he’d huddled together in his freezing apartment with Ant, holding each other close for warmth.

Just the brief thought sent pain through Zayn.

Louis and Liam murmured quietly to each other in the back row, the sound almost lost even to Zayn’s perception borne of wariness in city alleyways. Though he couldn’t make out the words of the discussion, the constant hum managed to lull him into a state that pulled him from the agony of the car ride.

He closed his eyes, allowing sleep to claim him.

***

The funeral home was somber and small, nestled between a drugstore and the street. A small group of people loitered outside, dressed in black and holding tissues. Most of them were pretty young; as the car drew closer, Zayn recognized them as some of his classmates.

“I’m going to have to go around the corner to get some parking,” Paul said, eying Zayn in the backseat through the rearview mirror.

Zayn nodded, clearing his throat. Be strong. “Yeah, that’s fine,” he replied, shrugging. “Whatever’s best.”

Paul’s lips flattened into a straight line; it was clear that he was worried, but he knew better than to question Zayn about it. Not now. For that, Zayn was eternally grateful. The car jerked into motion again, turning the corner and pulling into a car lot. It was a familiar one to Zayn; he’d worked here as a parking attendant for two months to save up enough money for his apartment’s rent. Stepping out of the car into the smoke-thick air and cracked asphalt was like a blow to the stomach. This dilapidated excuse for a neighborhood was far cry from the haven that was the valley.

“I’ll stay in the car, Zayn. You guys go on in.”

Zayn jumped in surprise when Paul’s voice sounded at his ear. He shook himself from his reverie and nodded again – it seemed to be recurring today. “Yeah, that’s fine,” he said, and he was sure he was becoming a broken record because he’d done that already too.

He squared his shoulders and walked towards the exit of the lot, not looking back to see if the rest of the boys were following him. At this point, he didn’t know if he would be able to go on if he looked back now.

When he reached the funeral home, a few of the kids that he’d seen outside looked up at him in surprise. Claire Agnestory blinked at him past her thick glasses, her eyes bloodshot and her face blotchy from crying. “Zayn!” she exclaimed, her voice infinitely happy and infinitely sad at the same time. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Damn, we thought that you’d dropped off the face of the earth, man,” one of the guys said.

Zayn scuffed his shoe on the sidewalk. “Yeah, it’s a long story,” he mumbled. “Mind if I go inside? Maybe we can catch up later.” It was a boldfaced lie – he had no intention to come back and chat with near strangers after he’d seen his friend’s dead body – but he made it convincing with a small smile. When Claire nodded eagerly, Zayn slipped past her and into the building.

Inside, the funeral home smelled of thick incense and flowers. The thin residual odor of the perfume and cologne of past visitors still lingered in the air, sickly sweet and cloying. In short, it was a shitty cover of the smell of death.

Zayn hated it.

He collided with a small, thin girl that was standing by the door of the main room, and he made to apologize, but then she turned around. She blinked. He blinked.

“Zayn?”

The breath rushed out of him.

“Perrie.”

Perrie’s eyes were wide and her face was blotchy and red from crying. There were bags under her eyes, both from lack of sleep and from grief. “Zayn,” she murmured, and Zayn pulled her into a hug before he knew what he was doing. “Zayn, where did you go?”

“Away,” Zayn murmured into her hair. When they separated, he got a better look at her. His friend’s neck was covered with fading bruises, and there was a scratch across her cheek. “Perrie, are you still with him?” he asked in despair. Ian had continued to beat her, it seemed.

She shrugged too-frail shoulders. “What else could I do?”

“Leave,” Zayn insisted. “Leave him and live with Jesy or something. Anything but be with him.”

Perrie smiled ruefully. “You think that I haven’t tried that? How do you think I got like this?” Her voice wavered a bit, sounding small and weak and defeated.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn whispered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you, that I couldn’t help Ant, Jesus Christ...”

She touched his face so tenderly, and Zayn pressed his cheek into her palm, his chest tight and constricted. In another life, he could’ve protected Perrie; he could’ve kept her safe with him. But that life was far cry from this hell that she’d been dealt, and no amount of power could change that. “I’m sorry,” he repeated again, his voice cracking.

“Sorry can’t change anything, love,” she whispered, and she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Don’t worry about me, Zayn. Just go and see him.”

“Goodbye, Perrie.” Zayn was sure his heart was breaking. The warmth of her kiss was quickly disappearing in despair.

She smiled thinly. “Goodbye, Zayn.”

And then she was gone.

A warm hand found his shoulder. Zayn looked back, his body shaking. Harry’s warm green eyes watched him intently, and the large hand squeezed him gently. “Go on, mate,” the tall boy murmured. “We’ll wait up here, okay?”

Zayn stumbled forward, pushing past the aimlessly milling mourners on his way down the length of the room. There was his lab partner, and there was Mr. Lloyd. God damn, and there was the school secretary. All of the people that he had once known were all here for Ant, to mourn for a boy that had gone too soon. They flitted past him like ghosts of a past long gone, and their faces meant nothing.

This home meant nothing to him now.

He just had to say his final goodbyes.

The coffin was closed when he got to it, and Zayn supposed that when you’re a poor boy living on the wrong side of town, you don’t exactly get the best post-mortem care. Perhaps the lack of a view was for the better.

There was a kneeler in front of the shiny brown case, probably meant for the faithful that wished to say a prayer for the dearly departed Anthony Riach. It seemed to be the only thing to do, so Zayn sank to his knees, his whole body numb. For a minute he just was there, looking at the coffin that held the dead, cold body of his best friend.

The wood was cold when he touched it, frigid and unyielding beneath his palm. Zayn pressed his forehead against the surface, letting sobs shake him once more. “Ant, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice strained and choked above the tears in his throat.

There should’ve been a response. There should’ve been a smartass comment or a laugh in answer, a chuckle telling him Malik, what the hell are you doing? Get the hell up.

But there wasn’t.

Zayn put his lips against the coffin, bidding Ant a final farewell. “I’m sorry that things weren’t different,” he murmured against the wood, “but I know that you’re better off away from here.” He let out a shaking breath, patting the coffin gently. “See you around, mate.”

He stood slowly, like a man withered with age and the weight of the world. Maybe he was now. Touching the coffin one last time, he walked away, feeling the solid coolness of the coffin disappear for good from beneath his fingers.

He was gone now.

There was a line of mourners gathered to offer their condolences to Ant’s family. In the center of it all was Danny. Zayn’s heart went out to him; to lose a brother to such a tragedy as this was surely as painful as losing his family to the flames. He followed the path of the lady that used to live next to the Riach family and came to Danny, looking up at his old friend.

“Danny,” Zayn murmured.

Danny’s dark eyes were teary and he gave a little hiccup when he saw Zayn in front of him. “Zayn,” he gasped, and he grabbed Zayn in a fierce hug, holding him tightly. “Zayn, Ant…”

“I know,” Zayn whispered, holding tight to Danny for dear life. “I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Danny choked into his ear. “Don’t be sorry.” He let Zayn go, but still they held each other by the forearms. “Zayn, where the hell have you been?”

“I got adopted. If I’d been here, Danny, maybe I could’ve stopped Ant, maybe I could’ve helped him…” Zayn trailed off, glancing over at the coffin.

Danny patted his shoulder in a brotherly, comforting way. “Don’t get worked up about it. Please, Zayn. I don’t want your memory of him to be covered in guilt. Give him that much.”

“Of course,” Zayn replied, and he refused to acknowledge how much his voice cracked on the tears.

“Who are they?” Danny asked, his bloodshot eyes ticking over to where Liam, Harry, Niall, Josh, and Louis were standing at the back. “I’ve never seen them before.”

Zayn gave his friend a watery smile. “They were the ones that adopted me. I guess you could call most of them my brothers.”

Danny choked slightly at the last word, his eyes forlorn, but he still managed to pull Zayn back into a final hug. “Take care of them, man. Don’t ever let them leave your sight.” His voice was scratchy and pained. “I did, and look what happened.” He gestured weakly to the coffin across the room.

“Yeah, Danny,” Zayn rasped. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

“Take care of yourself, Zayn, okay?” Danny’s reddened eyes narrowed in on him in suddenly sharp focus. “Please.”

“Yeah,” Zayn murmured, and with that, Danny grasped his shoulder one last time and let him go.

He’d set him free of this life.

He strode swiftly back towards the entrance, pushing past old faces that blurred across his vision. He reached the boys and kept walking. “Let’s go,” he growled, not even stopping.

“Zayn–”

“I said let’s go.”

***

Liam managed to keep up with Zayn when he bolted from the car upon arrival back at the valley. Zayn usually prided himself on his speed, so Liam tailing him easily was reassuring and discouraging at the same time – chances were that he was losing his touch.

The rock was welcoming and sun-warmed, the sun hidden behind the clouds for the time being. Zayn hugged his knees to his chest when he sat, burying his head between his kneecaps. He didn’t want Liam to see him cry just now.

Liam, mercifully, didn’t say a word when he sat down beside Zayn. The only noises were their heavy breathing from running and Zayn’s quiet, half-aborted sniffs as he tried to hide his misery.

“Life fucking sucks.”

Liam snorted quietly in surprise. “You just noticed that?”

“All my friends, they just fell apart while I was gone. Perrie – did you see her? – she’s still with her boyfriend who’s been beating her up, and I just don’t know what to do.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Liam told him gently, and the realization hit Zayn hard. Liam was right; he had no place there anymore. It was as if he’d been lifted out of that timeline, a chess piece knocked out of play in one game and put into another one.

“I never said goodbye to him, you know,” Zayn said, and his voice caught in his throat. It was too much. “The last time I saw him, he called me a fucking idiot. And I asked him for the money that he owed me. And then I was gone. He never knew what happened to me. Nobody did.”

Liam hummed quietly, and for a long while that was the only noise that came from the other boy. Zayn let himself fall back into the misery of crying, letting his tears fall unhindered.

“I’ll leave you alone.” Liam motioned to stand, but Zayn shot his arm out before he knew what he was doing. He grabbed Liam’s arm, and for a split second, they were hanging in limbo, watching each other’s eyes and waiting for the next move.

“No,” he muttered. “Please just stay.”

Liam nodded and sat back down. He wrapped his arms around his knees and stared out at the valley, his eyes probing and intent. “You’ll get through this, Zayn,” he said suddenly. “You’re strong.”

Zayn ducked his head. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“No,” Liam insisted. “You’ll be okay.” He cleared his throat. “I can help.”

“Are you so sure?”

Brown eyes studied him, probing and intense and gentle. “I can try, can’t I?”

Zayn grinned a bit, his heart soaring. If he weren’t so fucking upset, he’d be giddy. “You can.”

***

It became second nature for them, just like it was for Zayn and Josh. They’d spend the evenings out on the rock after dinner or between training or just when Simon gave them a day off. And the two of them would just sit there for an hour or so, more if they had the time, and they’d just stay. No words were exchanged, but the silence between him and Liam was just as comforting as that which stayed between him and Josh, if not more.

Zayn still didn’t know much more about Liam than his last name.

Somehow, that was okay.

***

On the day that it happened, it was pleasantly warm on their rock, and Liam’s eyes were closed, his head tossed back as he let the sun’s rays heat him to the core.

Peace.

Until he heard a pop, like a holiday firecracker that fizzled out with sparks.

Zayn squinted across the wide expanse of grass and training sand that marked their valley.

Was that…?

“What is that?”

Liam looked up. “What’s what?”

Zayn pointed over the rise, at the other end of the valley. Coming through the trees were flares of light, bursting into different colors against what seemed to be an invisible wall.

“Shit,” Liam swore, and his fingers were suddenly ablaze with flames that flickered anxiously across his hands. “They’re breaking down the wards.”

“Who?”

"It's the others of our kind," Liam explained, looking across the rise. "We’ve fought before. They want to have us for their own. Something about building the army of the world or something. They want to be the superior race again."

"Do you?" Zayn asked.

Liam snorted, eyes still watching the edge of the property. "Obviously not, if I'm here."

“And it didn’t occur to you to tell me about our apparent mortal enemies ever before? Honestly?” Zayn snorted quietly. “Thanks for the heads up.”

The corners of Liam’s mouth twitched a bit. “It didn’t seem too important at the time.” He turned to Zayn, suddenly solemn. "I'm going to have to admit that we're seriously outnumbered here. And with you still not knowing about your powers..."

"I'm a liability," Zayn finished. "I understand."

"I'm going to get the others and I'm going to ward the area around you so that you can't get hurt. You’re going to stay here."

Zayn glared at Liam. "Why do you care so much?" he spat, annoyed at how useless he was being.

Liam shrugged, and maybe there was the flicker of emotion in his eyes. "I just do," he replied, and he suddenly snapped his fingers together, igniting a small fire that he threw up into the air. The flame soared high before exploding like a firework, bright and loud. It was a flare, Zayn realized. He was calling the others.

Liam turned to him, his eyes unreadable as always. "Get in the center of the rock," he ordered, and Zayn scrambled to follow his orders, though there was a bit of reluctance rising in his throat. "This," Liam explained, taking his two fingers and dragging them around the perimeter of the boulder, "is a ward.  It will protect you from nearly every attack that can come to it. Nobody can come into it except for you and the creator of the ward. In this case, it's me." He finished his revolution of the rock and stopped.

Zayn looked around himself. "I don't see anything different," he muttered.

"I'm not done yet," Liam snapped back exasperatedly, and he pressed his fingers to the imaginary circle that he had created. Immediately, the entire circle burst into flame, and Zayn jumped and tried to get as far into the center of the rock as possible.

“What the fuck are you trying to do, kill me?” he yelled, scrambling to get all extremities out of reach of the flames.

Liam gave a rare fleeting grin, seemingly amused by Zayn’s ramblings, and the fire disappeared in a whoosh, leaving a charred circle on the rock. “And there’s your ward,” he told Zayn with an air of finality. “That’s pretty much it.”

“A circle?” Zayn looked up at Liam, arching an eyebrow. “You’re protecting me with a little bit of ash?”

“Don’t doubt the circle,” Liam warned him.

Zayn raised his hands in surrender. “I do not doubt the circle.”

Liam looked at him for another moment, his eyes probing and stern. “Do not leave this circle. If you leave, you will be killed. Do. Not. Leave.”

“What if something happens?” Zayn protested. “I can’t just–”

Liam was suddenly in the circle with him, his dark eyes blazing. “You will not leave this circle. Am I understood?”

Zayn nodded, opting to not anger Liam and to instead go along with it. “Understood,” he squeaked, throat tightening from nerves.

“Liam! Zayn!” called a strong voice from behind Zayn; the two of them looked in the direction of the call and saw Josh, Nick, Louis, Harry, Niall, Paul, and Simon running towards them, all carrying various weapons. They stopped just in front of the rock, and Paul glanced approvingly at the ward scorched onto the stone. “Good work,” he told Liam.

Liam shrugged.

Paul’s dark eyes scanned the edge of the valley, and they rested on the spot where the most bursts of lights were coming up. “What happened?”

“Zayn noticed the attacks about three minutes ago. From the condition of the outside wards now, I can guess that the attack started about five minutes ago. They seem to have brought everybody this time,” Liam recited automatically, like he’d been waiting for years for Paul to ask.

Simon glared out across the valley. “Outnumbering us and ambushing us…great sports, they are.”

“There aren’t great sports in war,” Liam replied quietly.

“True,” Simon countered with raised eyebrows, “but there is a certain line between fair and inhumane.”

Liam seemed to be satisfied with the answer. “Do we have a plan?” he asked.

Harry pointed at Niall. “He does.”

“Well,” Niall announced, and all eyes turned to the young blonde, who opened up the map that he’d been carrying once he saw that he’d gotten everyone’s attention. Zayn, from his spot in the warded circle, could see that it was a map of the valley, and all sorts of symbols were marked on it. “Here’s a map of all the traps that we have previously set here in case of an invasion like this,” Niall explained, any trace of his usual joking gone from his face. His solemnity only went to show just how dire the situation was. “It’s all coded according to which powers activate them. Liam, we have some incendiary bombs and various other pyrotechnics stored here and here.” Niall pointed to two large red ovals at the edges of the valley at the spot where the invaders were still attacking now. “That way, we can knock out a lot of them at once at the very start.”

Liam nodded. “Clever,” he mused.

Niall grinned at Liam, his eyes shining at the compliment. He looked back at the map and pointed out three lines of black that surrounded the valley. “Paul and Simon, these are for you. There are wires underground here. If enough electricity is channeled through them, we can short-circuit all of the water and ice warriors, sparing me, of course.” Niall pointed at his shoes, and all of them looked to see the thick rubber soles on the bottoms. “Of course, Harry and Josh, you have the whole world at your disposal, but there’s an old fault line here,” he pointed at a hair-thin line drawn on the paper, “so Harry, if you want to mess with that, it’s all you. Free reign and all that.” He pursed his lips in concentration. “Lou and Nick–”

“Present!” the darker-haired man interrupted with a grin.

Louis rolled his eyes. “Yes, Nicholas, we see that.”

“Anyways,” Niall continued forcefully, glancing from one to the other. “You both are air, and that’s abundant enough, so there’s not much here…other than these two tanks of pressurized air. You’ll get one hell of an explosion with these.”

“When did this place become so deadly?” Zayn muttered, and Niall laughed.

“It’s always been like this, I guess. It’s how we were made.”

“For guerilla warfare?” he snorted, and Niall shrugged.

“If it works,” he replied, “we use it.”

“And what about you, Wonder Boy?” Nick inquired with a quirk of his lips. “Is our fearless leader to have any tricks up his sleeves?”

Niall blinked. “Nick, do you realize that this entire cliff has been formed over an underground river? Did you ever question the convenient existence of a well on the property?” His face was so incredulous that Zayn had half a mind to laugh.

Nick snorted. “Do you really think that I pay attention when I come outside? I’m a radio host, man.”

“Well,” Niall said softly, and there was such a tone to his voice that Zayn could practically hear how done the blond was with the whole situation, “there is indeed a well. And there’s water. I will be using it.” He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, shaking his head for a second. Zayn felt bad for the young boy, who clearly had lived with Nick for too long.

“Do you have armor?” he asked curiously, looking at the everyday jeans and shirts that all of the men were wearing. “It doesn’t exactly seem logical that you’d run into battle without protection.”

Niall squared his shoulders, watching the lights assailing their home boundaries. The attacks were growing more and more frequent, and the air in the valley smelled of ozone. He glanced back at Zayn. “We use our powers to generate our own,” he explained, and he closed his pale blue eyes. The air around his body seemed to shiver for a second, and Zayn’s mouth went dry; he blinked to restore wetness to his suddenly parched eyes. When his eyes refocused, Niall was surrounded by a glistening layer of shimmering blue; it looked half metallic and half water, and it fit like armor around his form. He spread his arms wide, a smug grin on his face. “And there you go.”

“Damn, I want to learn that,” Zayn breathed, and he looked around at the rest of the men. While he’d been occupied with Niall’s conjuration, the others had created armor of their own. Harry wore dark gray, stony-looking garb, Josh wore pale green, and Louis and Nick both matched with pale gray-blue chain mail, with Simon and Paul in black and Liam in smoky red armor. The muscles of his arms strained against the tightly linked, fire-red mail that covered them. Zayn tried not to look too hard.

The sound of an explosion crackled towards them, and Zayn tore his gaze from his friends and looked back at the valley; there were glimmering holes appearing in the wards. “I don’t like the look of that,” he muttered.

“Nobody does.” Simon started towards the steps in the valley wall, a dark spear materializing in his hand with a spark of blue electricity. The rest of the group followed behind, similar weapons appearing with them as well.

“Good luck,” Zayn called after them, and Liam’s head twitched a bit, almost like he was about to look back at Zayn, but the motion was aborted. The boy continued onward with all of Zayn’s friends, headed down into the battlefield.

Zayn watched them go, feeling his stomach sink with every step that they went downward. He didn’t like the feeling of this at all.

When they were all down at the floor of the valley, they planted their feet firmly on the ground and looked across at the assailants. While they had been preparing, the final wards had been broken down, leaving the attackers with a clear way in to fight.

Simon raised his arm.

“Liam! Now!”

In a heartbeat, Liam raised his arms and conjured a ball of fire, throwing it across the valley at an unnatural speed. It sped like a comet across the sky, streaking the air with a trail of smoke.

“Hit the deck!”

Zayn moved with the rest of them, dropping to his stomach on the rock and covering his head with his hands. Through the crack between his arms and the rock, he watched the flickering ball of flame arc across the sky, hitting its apogee before it began to curve down, down, towards the warriors and where the bombs were hopefully stored. Zayn prayed that Niall’s maps and Liam’s aim were accurate.

They were.

His eardrums pounded as a concussive blast exploded at the end of the valley, a plume of fire rising in the air while debris and – Zayn nearly gagged – bodies flew through the air, thrown by the flames and shrapnel from the firebomb.

In the silence that followed the explosion, Liam strode out towards the carnage, his steps strong and sure. The dark red of his armor glinted in the sun, bright and beautiful and dangerous. Zayn shivered at the raw power that was cloaked beneath Liam’s skin.

The rest of the valley natives arranged themselves in a line, weapons held at the ready. They waited there for the remaining soldiers to reach them, and they came. The survivors of the blasts had charred shields and furious faces, and they charged out of the ash and smoke to meet the small line of defenders.

The valley was under attack.

Simon and Paul’s spears crackled with raw electricity, and the bright flashes were terrifying to see. To know that there would be more death to come, and this time directly at the hands of his friends and adopted family, almost made Zayn sick. But this was his new life. These were his people; they weren’t like the humans that Zayn had grown up his whole life knowing.

An older man, probably middle-aged with dark hair and a suit of stone armor, reached them first. Niall clapped his hand over the mouth of that first warrior, and Zayn watched in horror as the older man jerked and flailed. Niall released him, and the man fell to his hands and knees, and his shoulders were heaving. He made the motion of coughing, and suddenly water spewed forth from his mouth in great torrents. The man collapsed then, and Zayn realized that he’d drowned.

“Dad!” a thin, anguished scream rose from the ranks of the advancing enemy, and the shout was a catalyst for the battle. As one, the remaining warriors ran at the small row of defenders, yelling out war cries.

Zayn flinched even though he wasn’t down there; it was too painful to watch, seeing what would surely be, had to be a massacre of his friends.

The attackers clashed with the defenders all at once, the air crackling with expelled energy and the metal clang of sword on sword. Zayn watched in horror as his friends took on two or three warriors at once, with more attackers waiting to fall upon them once the old ones were defeated. They were outnumbered.

And yet.

They were holding their own.

Liam’s body moved in such a lithe way, tucking and twisting and rolling across the rocks like he was born to do it. When he sprang up, he lobbed a ball of fire towards the advancing horde of warriors, the flames morphing into a massive bear that loped to the wall of soldiers, roaring and scorching the shields it hit.

Magnificent.

Zayn flinched when another warrior, this time a girl, somersaulted out of the fray and lobbed a volley of flames across the valley towards Liam, but the brunette just held up his shield and the flames dissolved into nothingness.

Powerful.

Harry bent and slapped the ground with tremendous force, yelling in triumph when the earth responded to his touch; golems of dirt and stone crawled from the ground. They assembled in form around Harry, drawing swords made from rough-hewn rock. Harry charged on, his new creations pounding along beside him, and they fell into the fray. Zayn craned his neck and searched for that familiar curly hair in the surge of bodies, but his younger friend had disappeared.

A soldier looked up from the outskirts of the battlefield, clad in pale blue and with a long, thin sword held ready in his hands. His eyes locked with Zayn’s, and Zayn felt a cold chill run down his back. There was danger, surely.

He was not wrong. The soldier lifted his sword and whipped it through the air, and silvery daggers of ice flew from the tip of the blade, whistling towards Zayn. Zayn flinched and ducked, covering his head with his arms. He waited for the inevitable stab of pain that should come with the knives, but he only felt the spray of the sea. He looked up warily.

The ice had been dissolved to water droplets.

“Jesus, fuck,” he breathed. “I need to learn how to ward things.”

When he looked back down at the valley, he saw that the soldier that had attacked him was dead, lying face down on the ground with a smoldering hole in his back. His body had been burned clean through with flames.

Sighing his relief, he stared at the battle and let out a gasp, his hopes soaring.

They could still win.

Sure, they were outnumbered by at least eight to one, but they were more well-trained and more of a well-oiled machine than the grunts that were fighting them. For a moment, Zayn felt a blaze of hope in himself. They could win.

Then he saw Liam. Liam, blessed sweet Liam, Liam with the fire and the moods and the voice like heaven. And Liam was surrounded, looking drained and pale, on his back. A crowd of seven young warriors surrounded him, wearing forest green armor that suggested power over the plants. Vines rose from the ground, tying Liam to the ground by his wrists and ankles.

One of the boys strode forward, taking his time. After all, he had a tired opponent that was tied down. He laughed, pulling a sword from his scabbard and twirling it in his hands. He raised it above his head, and it caught the sun in sickly green reflections.

Liam’s fingertips danced with a hint of flame, but soon fizzled out. He was out of energy. The earth had nothing left to give him, not in his weakened state.

"No!" Zayn screamed, and he thrust a hand out, trying to do anything, forgetting that he was too far away to be of any sort of help.

Then came the light.

The warrior with the sword threw his head back and screamed, streams of light bursting from his eyes. The other six soldiers suffered similarly, falling to their knees and then collapsing, dead, on the ground.  Zayn cringed at the smell of burnt skin that drifted across the battlefield, wondering who had killed them.

The vines around Liam's wrists shriveled to dust, and he stood up, looking up at the rise where Zayn stood, chest heaving. Even from a distance, the gaze weighed heavily on Zayn.

An explosion caught their attention, and they both turned from their respective places to stare as the underground pressurized tanks of air were detonated, the explosions sending many of the attackers flying.

“Retreat!”

A burly man on the outskirts of the battle raised his sword as he shouted the words. Zayn watched as the rest of the attackers, the ones that were still alive, reluctantly ended their battles and turned tail, fleeing. The defenders of the valley watched them go, lowering their weapons.

The ragtag band of fleeing warriors were limping and fire-charred, their numbers diminished from hundreds to just tens of people, running away from what would have surely been their defeat.

Zayn abandoned his safe spot, shivering when he broke the wards around the area, and ran down the hill at Liam. He threw himself at Liam, pressing him into a hug that he really didn't know the reason for. There was just relief, adrenaline surging through his veins at the sheer rush of knowing that Liam had not died. "I thought you were going to die, Liam,” he breathed into the chain mail on Liam’s chest, cooling his flushed face against the metal. “Who was it with the light?”

“Zayn, it was you.”

Zayn was checking for wounds, looking for abrasions on Liam’s wrists – there were – and checking for stab wounds. “Liam, they were going to kill you! Why are you so calm about this?”

Liam grabbed Zayn’s hands, stopping them from checking Liam for injuries. “Zayn, did you hear what I said?”

“No.” Zayn looked up, meeting Liam’s too-tired brown eyes that held a sort of excitement in them for once. “What is it?”

“Zayn,” Liam told him, his voice breathless, “it was you.”

“What?” Zayn knew that he was hearing something, knew that this was what Liam was saying, but the words struggled to compute in his mind. “Liam, have I discovered my power?”

A rare smile blazed across Liam’s face. “You have,” he answered, his dark eyes glowing. “Congratulations.”

Zayn smiled in return, out of breath suddenly. He was suddenly conscious of Liam’s hands on his, and he gently pulled them out of Liam’s grasp. “We still have to get these rope burns taken care of,” he told Liam, running a thumb gently over the raw, red marks.

Liam shivered at the touch. “Yeah,” he replied, and his smile slowly began to fade from his face.

Zayn nodded, glad that Liam was cooperating, and he looked around the battlefield, picking out Harry, Nick, and Paul conferring a short distance away. “Where’s Niall?”

“I could use a little help here!”

Zayn turned and his question was answered. Simon, Louis, and Josh were kneeling around a prone form on the ground. Zayn sprinted over, desperate to help, and his stomach dropped when he saw that it was Niall on the ground, curled up on his side, his hair wet and fingers twitching weakly. “What happened?” he asked Josh quietly.

Josh shook his head sadly. “Electrocution. He was getting ready for an attack and got hit with a bolt from behind. His systems are fried.”

“Will he be okay?”

“With rest, yeah,” Louis added, gently turning Niall onto his back. “He’s just got to recover from the shock, and as long as there was no major damage to his nervous system, he’ll be up within a couple of days.”

“I’ll take Niall in,” Josh offered, and he scooped up the small, limp body of their blonde friend. He ran off, climbing the valley walls in record time considering the fact that Niall was slung over his shoulder.

Zayn whistled as he watched the two of them go. “This training really bulks you up, eh?”

Louis smiled faintly as he passed Zayn, a thin gash running down his left cheek. He seemed to be paying no attention to the steady trickle of blood from the wound. “It doesn’t make you weaker, I’ll tell you that.”

“Shouldn’t you get that looked at?” Zayn asked, gesturing to the wound.

“Oh, this?” Louis shrugged with a laugh. “It’s nothing, man, really. I’ve had much worse.”

Zayn nodded solemnly, remembering the burn wounds across Louis’s body. “So what do we do now?”

“We repair. We rebuild. We hope that they won’t attack too soon.” Louis pinched at the bridge of his nose, running his hand up and through his hair. “That’s all we can do.”

“What do we do with the bodies?” Zayn asked. The valley was littered with the dead; a rank stench of death was beginning to rise from them.

Harry, hearing him, wearily bent to the ground at that, and he placed his palm on the ground. The earth quivered and, over across the valley, Zayn saw two boulders crumble to dust. That was the toll that Harry’s power took on the earth; he needed to get the energy from somewhere. The earth seemed to turn to liquid around the bodies in the valley, and the corpses were swallowed whole into the ground, being absorbed and buried. The ground solidified again easily, and that was the end of it.

Zayn was about to ask Harry about what he’d done, but a warning look from Liam convinced him otherwise. It was not the right time or place to be asking that type of thing.

“Let’s head back,” Paul suggested, and the rest of the

“We must stay alert,” Liam warned him as they headed back towards the house. “We can only assume that they’ll attempt a counterattack.”

Zayn shook his head. “Not so soon, though. You saw them. We practically destroyed them. They won’t be back anytime soon.”

Liam’s stride slowed a bit, and when Zayn glanced over, he saw that the younger male’s brow was furrowed in thought. The two of them walked in silence until Liam spoke again. “I don’t want to risk anything, though. There were still people left, after all, and we can’t know for sure if that was all of them in the strike.”

“So we’re on the watch, then.”

The other boy nodded in affirmation. “Welcome to wartime, Zayn.”

***

When the sun rose the next day, it touched the grass in the valley and seemed as if it turned the starved earth to gold.

At least that was what Zayn thought. The dead grass, all yellowed and dry, looked unappetizing and morbid to him at first, but he couldn’t help but find beauty in the destruction. The view was a bit of a compensation for how much damage had been done to the valley and its inhabitants.

Niall had been ordered to be kept in bed so as not to disturb his aching, short-circuited body. It was morbidly humorous that despite every power that they had, they couldn’t just heal Niall. But somehow, they knew that they’d all make it through, and Niall was strong enough for them all to have confidence.

The entire valley felt dead, the arid air devoid of any sort of energy. Everything was drained of its vigor by the powers needed to carry out the battle. From out the window of the bedroom, Zayn could see the arcing, wizened trunks of trees that were drained of all that they had.

It would take a while to recover, but it would heal. They all knew it.

Zayn just wondered if they’d be able to survive the process.

When Zayn trudged into the kitchen, everyone looked up expectantly, eyes wide.

“Morning, then,” Zayn muttered, and he tried to rub the exhaustion from his eyes while pouring himself some cereal. “You all waiting for me or something?” When nobody answered, he turned around and inspected their faces. Josh blinked and averted his eyes, and Nick smirked a bit before turning back to his omelet. Harry and Louis smiled sweetly at him, a sure sign of danger. Liam, who was sitting at the head of the table, scanned the scene before getting up to put his plate in the sink. The marks on his strong arms from the vines that had held him down had turned into bruises that went in stark purple-blue lines across his skin. Zayn winced and thought about what had happened if Liam hadn’t been saved by Zayn’s light.

Oh. His light.

The expectant gazes made a whole lot more sense.

“So I know my power now. Big deal,” he muttered, trying to brush off the topic. He poured milk among the flakes of his cereal, stirring it absently with a spoon before he made his way to the table, taking his regular place. “I don’t understand why it’s so important to all of you.”

“Well,” Louis began, “it’s a major part of your identity, and I even began making your streamer last night.” Zayn stared at Louis in confusion for a second before he realized that Louis was referring to the streamer that would hang in place on the boys’ bedroom doorway. “And you need to learn how to use it.”

Zayn shrugged. “So I’ll show the adults. You don’t need to know just yet.”

“C’mon, Zayn,” Harry wheedled, coming up behind him to wrap clingy arms around Zayn’s neck. “Just show us the light.”

Zayn tried to shrug off Harry’s arms to no avail. “Shove off, Harry, I’m eating breakfast.” When Harry refused to move, Zayn resigned himself to his fate and deigned to just eat his cereal and ignore the boy wrapped around his neck.

Louis threw a strawberry into Zayn’s Cheerios, smiling in triumph when milk splattered all over Zayn’s face. “Zayn, come on, we just want to see it. You’ve got your power now; you have to start honing it sooner or later!” he reasoned.

“I don’t want to show you my light, Louis,” Zayn replied in as polite a tone as he could manage, taking another spoonful of cereal.

“Why not?”

“Leave me alone, Louis.”

Harry poked him in the cheek. “Why won’t you show us, Zayn?”

“Because I don’t fucking know how!” Zayn burst out, standing up abruptly from his chair, shouldering Harry off. He stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him and heading out of the house.

He headed out towards the rise where the battle had been, picking his way along the grasses to find the large, flat rock where he’d taken to sitting lately. In the weak morning sun, the rock had already grown to a pleasantly warmer temperature than the surrounding area, and it was comforting when Zayn sat down. He sat cross-legged on the boulder, pulling at blades of grass that poked up over the sides.

Fuck Louis. Fuck Harry. Everyone was a complete and utter bag of shit today, and Zayn was determined to stick by that observation. Why couldn’t they just realize that not even he had the capability to demonstrate his power outside of stressful situations? Why couldn’t they see that there had only been one time that Zayn had used his power, and even then, he hadn’t even known it was him until someone else had told him that it was.

And he was still hungry.

He felt rather than saw the person that joined him on the rock, but was glad that whoever it was didn’t talk to him

He just sat there for a while - a minute, an hour, he didn't really know - with the other person, not bothering to look over because whoever it was, the sight of one of the boys would only aggravate him more. It was a nice kind of silence, just a hint of tension but with no traces of hostility. Zayn could hear the quiet in-and-out of his breath.

“Care to talk about it?”

Zayn sighed. “Liam.” He was pretty sure that he was relieved. “How’d you find me?”

Liam shifted on the rock, and Zayn chanced a glance at him to see that he was staring out across the valley too, the morning sun catching in his eyes and turning them bright fawn-brown. He didn’t want to admit it, but his breath hitched for a moment at the beauty that was Liam. He chided himself for having let himself fall so much for the detached young man. “You kind of just stormed out of the house. And, you know, Louis sent me to get you.”

“That tosser,” Zayn huffed under his breath, but his anger began to dissipate nonetheless.

“He only wants the best for you, Zayn,” Liam reasoned. “Yeah, he’s a bit pushy about it sometimes, but he’s only got your best interests in mind. Really.”

Zayn looked over at Liam again; the younger boy was watching him with his unfathomable brown eyes again. “Then why can’t he accept that I can’t use my powers right now? I’m useless.”

“Don’t say that,” Liam reprimanded him sharply. Zayn’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Liam continued, stumbling slightly, “I used to think I was useless too. Everyone does. But you’re not. You never will be. Everyone’s powers are different; that’s what makes us so unique and so needed. There’s nobody like you who can do precisely what you do, just like there’s nobody who can do exactly what I do.” He stared right into Zayn’s eyes, his expression earnest. “Did you know that of all of the people with light power that I’ve ever met or seen, not one of them has ever done what you did on the battlefield yesterday? Not a single one.”

“Really?” Zayn asked, skeptical and bashful at the same time.

The other boy nodded seriously. “Really.”

“So what do I do now?” Zayn asked dully, scratching at the rock.

Liam looked over at him steadily. “You go talk to Simon.”

***

“So this is what we do with everyone who gets a new power,” Simon told him as they walked through the valley, their shoes crunching over dead grass still drained from the battle. “Think of it as an assessment of sorts.”

“Okay, so what are we doing now?”

"Not everyone's power is always useful in every situation," Simon reminded him. "Light is a very amorphous substance, not even a substance so much as an energy. My job today is to identify what you can and can't do, and we'll work from there."

Zayn raised an eyebrow, wanting to protest but deciding against it. He knew better than to argue with Simon. “What do you want from me, then?”

Simon gestured to the bunker that Zayn had seen all throughout his time at the valley, and Zayn followed him over to the metal door that led inside. He’d never been so close to the bunker before, and it looked even more intimidating up close.

“In the bunker, we’re able to manipulate all sorts of conditions to test powers. For Niall, we filled it with water completely and made him find the key to get out. That took fifteen minutes. For Liam, we had him burn his way out, but he could only burn certain materials and not the hay that we filled the rest of the room with. That was a fun one; it took two hours.”

“That’s fun to you people?”

Simon shrugged. “He did it perfectly. There was a perfect Liam-shaped hole in this huge block of wood, and not a single wisp of hay was even scorched.”

Zayn had to admit that was impressive. “And me?”

“What you’re going to do is go into this bunker, and you will be locked in. It will be dark. Pitch black, in fact. Somewhere in there is a key that will unlock the door to the bunker, and you must find it. Do whatever you can, but you can’t just feel around until you find it.”

“That’s it?”

Simon nodded. “That’s it.”

Zayn followed Simon into the bunker, looking around at his surroundings as much as he could before Simon abandoned him in the room. The door creaked shut, and Zayn was plunged into a complete and utter state of darkness. He was glad that he wasn’t afraid of the dark.

He reached up to the low ceiling, searching for some sort of light source. His fingers got scratched along the rough-hewn concrete, but he kept at it until his fingers found the smooth glass surface of a light bulb. He hummed triumphantly to himself, tapping a nail thoughtfully against the bulb.

“Light,” he murmured thoughtfully, and looked up in the direction of the bulb. “I’m light.”

The task at hand seemed so easy; he had light, and that light needed to be in the bulb. But try as he might, Zayn was unable to get the light bulb to illuminate. “Light,” he commanded the little bulb, feeling exceedingly foolish when the darkness remained painfully so.

Zayn imagined the faulty light bulbs and shoddy electricity back in the city before Paul had taken him in, remembering how he’d had to fiddle with it until the flickering light would come on. It was more a matter of will than anything else.

He pictured a light that had been ignited, recalling how it should look and feel, and he placed his hand on the bulb. “C’mon,” he hissed through his teeth, and he put the idea of light into the bulb.

The room flared with light.

“Oh.” Zayn regarded the now bright bulb. “Well there you go.” He smirked to himself. “Good for me.”

He remembered that he had to do more than just turn on the lights, so he scanned the bunker for the key that he was supposed to be finding. The room was small and nondescript, with rough gray concrete making up all four walls, as well as the ceiling and floor.

It looked totally unblemished, showing no sign of having any sort of place to keep a key in. Zayn frowned, blinking into the light of the bulb, trying to think of where a key would be. There was nowhere to actually hide a key.

Studying the now lit room, Zayn blinked at the pattern of light on the ground. There was a fault in what should have been a continuous flow of light, a shadow that didn’t belong to him. But the room was empty.

He looked back up at the light bulb, studying it closely.

“Fuck,” he swore.

The key was resting inside the curve of the bulb.

“But how do I get to it?” he wondered aloud, inspecting the bulb again. If he smashed the glass, the light would surely go out.

And yet.

It wasn’t that he’d ignited the light bulb like he would normally with a switch; instead, he’d just put light into the glass where he perceived it would most logically go. So technically, he could just move the light.

Hopefully.

Shrugging to himself, he raised his fist and punched, shattering the glass with a chorus of small dings as the shrapnel hit the ground. The key fell out too, landing on the ground with a metallic clink.

And the light stayed on.

Zayn looked up at the spot where the light bulb had been; a small orb of light was hovering there just where he’d left it, like the bulb had never been broken. He grinned. This was good.

Bending down, he picked the key from the shards of glass and twirled it in his fingers, letting the light up above guide him toward the door. He searched the shadowed, complicated looking door for any sign of a key hole, but the light was too faint and cast dark shadows across the hollows of the door.

Grumbling, Zayn looked back at the light. He held out his hand and beckoned the orb of light, trying to get it to come over to him. It flew at him with alarming speed, and he flinched, but the orb whizzed to a stop right above his hand and stayed hovering above it even as he moved it towards the door. Patting himself mentally on the back, he turned back to the door, waving the light in front of it to search again. After a minute or so, he found the keyhole nestled beneath a sliding door, and he triumphantly slotted the key in.

Pressing his shoulder against the heavy door, Zayn pushed hard and felt the door give and begin to swing open, and suddenly the room was filled with an immense amount of sunlight. Despite that, Zayn didn’t blink to try to get the sun from his eyes; it was normal for him now, apparently.

“Ta-da,” he said smugly, crossing his arms and leaning against the door to look at Simon. He raised his hand and closed his fist, watching the orb there extinguish itself.

Simon checked his watch. “Hm. You took thirteen minutes. Good job,” he praised, and Zayn felt a glow of pride before his mentor continued. “But this is just the beginning.”

***

When Zayn finally threw himself into bed that night, he was exhausted. Simon had put him through a gauntlet of tests, including a physical trial, and he was completely wiped out. At least they had figured out the gist of his functional powers at that moment. He could bring light into a light source and generate amorphous orbs of light that acted like Liam’s fire in that they could transform into shapes at Zayn’s will. And, of course, there was the mysterious burning light that could kill people.

But of course, that was the one thing that he’d been unable to reproduce under Simon’s scrutiny. And that was humiliating.

He pulled the sheets over his tired body, trying to forget the stresses that had come with the new power. He began to drift off into that blissful place that he called slumber, but then the bunk creaked above him as Niall shifted. And again.

And again.

“Turn the lights out,” Niall groaned finally. “Jesus.”

“You do it,” Zayn snapped.

Niall laughed. “Excuse you, Malik, but I’m on bed rest. I got electrocuted, unless you forgot?”

Zayn buried his head in the pillow. “Harry, you do it,” he ground out, too comfortable in the warmth of his own bed.

Harry huffed out a sigh before Zayn heard the telltale squeaking of Harry’s bunk as the youngest boy rolled off his bed. Zayn closed his eyes and sighed, waiting for the annoying light to flick out.

And waited.

“…Harry? The lights?”

“Can’t do that, Zayn.”

Zayn pulled his head out from under the pillow and glared at Harry, who was looking at him with wide eyes. “Why the hell not?”

“You’re glowing, mate!” Niall crowed, poking his head down from the upper bunk. “A proper firefly, you are!”

“Oh, fuck, really?” Zayn groaned and looked back at himself, craning his head to see that his sheets were, indeed, aglow with the light that was radiating from him. “Jesus, I can’t ever get this shit to stop, can I?”

Louis propped himself up on his elbows in his own bunk across the room, and his eyes widened in mirth. “Oh,” he chuckled, “this is quality.”

Zayn glared up at him. “You can fuck right off, Tomlinson.”

The auburn-haired boy shrugged. “Hey, so at least you’re finally showing us the light,” he offered with a roguish grin.

“Yes, and that’s all fine and dandy, but I’d appreciate it if it was off,” Zayn hissed. He looked down at his hand, inspecting the glow that seemed to just come from his skin. “I feel like a glow stick.”

“At least try to turn it off,” Harry whined, burying himself under his blankets again.

“Just imagine it being dark, like the way that you imagine it being light to light things up.”

Zayn looked over at Liam’s bunk, raising his eyebrows in surprise. The other boy shrugged, raising an eyebrow in a lazy challenge before he sank back down into his pillow.

Grumbling to himself, Zayn tried.

The room went dark.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

None of the other boys saw it, but Zayn could swear that he saw Liam grin.

***

The next morning, the gap between the streamers in the doorway was filled. This time, the new streamer was gold, and when Zayn got close to it, he saw his name written carefully, over and over again, in curving script, all in bronze and gold.

He smiled then, running his fingers over the embroidery, feeling all at once united with these people that he’d joined so long ago.

Nobody really mentioned it to him, the streamer.

But Zayn noticed.

He saw when Louis furtively finished off the final embroidery on one spot near the bottom.

He walked in on Simon painstakingly writing every detail about his new power in a lovingly handwritten logbook.

He saw the way that Liam’s eyes glinted with a bright smile of welcome whenever they were in the same room, even if his face didn’t betray him.

He noticed.

***

“Come on, Malik, it’s time that you took a bit of time with little old me!” Niall chirped, and he practically dragged Zayn away from his toast. Zayn made a wild attempt to grab a bit for the road, closing his fingers around a particularly buttery piece of wheat toast before Niall’s pull became insistent and he was led out the door of the house.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Niall?” Zayn drawled, shaking himself out of Niall’s grip as they headed towards the valley. The younger boy was vibrating with energy nowadays, freshly released from bed rest with orders to not get too enthusiastic with his water powers for a while.

“Simon’s letting me take you out for battle practice,” Niall informed him cheerfully. “You’re going to learn how to shield yourself against powers.”

Zayn took a few seconds to register the fact that he should be speeding up to follow Niall, since the smaller boy was heading away rapidly, and he struggled to catch up to the young blonde. “Am I finally going to learn how to fight?” he asked, feeling eagerness swell within him.

“That’s debatable,” Niall replied, “since you’re not really going to. It’s defense today. You can learn how to use a shield and stuff. Swords and weapons come later. Soon, but not now.”

“That’s not fun at all,” Zayn pouted, trailing after Niall towards the top of the valley rise. There, the small shack where they stored weapons and training supplies waited. “Oh, come on, Niall, it’s so hot out. Can we just not change? Or not do anything at all?”

“That’s a funny joke,” Niall told him, fixing him with an amused stare. “You should try that one on Simon.”

“He wouldn’t have to know,” Zayn protested, but he dragged his feet towards the shack.

“Here we go,” Niall singsonged as they headed inside. “Come on, suit up. It’s time for you to use armor.” He headed for a large box in the corner.

“Armor?” Zayn repeated.

Niall nodded, digging through the metallic objects that littered the box. “Usually we just generate our own, but seeing as you don’t know how…” he trailed off, obviously letting his silence act as a continuation.

"So why don’t you just teach me?” Zayn asked, watching as Niall wrenched a shield and chain mail from the chest, holding it up triumphantly.

"You learn it in association with shields and warding and stuff. This is pretty much the same stuff, only it’s nonspecific protection. Usually, when you generate your own armor, it's tailored to your specific needs in terms of defense against powers. With this, you get equal protection for everything." Niall shrugged. "It's not as effective, but, you know, you get used to it. I will tell you one thing, though," he added. "This shit is heavy as hell, so you'll be glad when you can make your own. Trust me. I was wearing this for five straight days of battle practice before I got the hang of it."

Zayn took the mail and shield from Niall hesitantly, and already he could feel the heavy weight of the items. “I’m starting to regret this,” he groaned.

Niall laughed. “They always do!” he exclaimed cheerfully, and he set to work watching Zayn dress himself in the protective armor.

He seemed to enjoy it when Zayn had trouble fitting the mail over his head right. After three minutes of Zayn cursing and struggling, the blond boy seemed to finally take pity on his friend and help him get his head and arms situated in the heavy garment of interlocking steel loops. “Oh, you look like a knight!” the blonde commented merrily, making sure that Zayn’s arms were covered in the stuff. “Here, take the shield while you’re at it.”

“Jesus, it’s heavy!” Zayn grunted when Niall hefted the thing into his arms, and he immediately put it down. “What’s it made of?”

Niall raised an eyebrow. “Wood. Metal. Y’know, shield stuff.”

“Of course,” Zayn drawled sarcastically. “Shield stuff. How could I have been so ignorant?”

“Oi, Malik, enough with the sass,” Niall reprimanded sunnily. “I get enough of the cheek from the others as it is. Not you too.”

Zayn smirked and summoned the strength to hold the massive shield; he made a note to work out sometime.

“So how do you generate armor?”

Niall shrugged, rolling his shoulders experimentally. “You saw it during the battle. It’s just another way to use your power. I would teach you, I really would, but Simon and Paul want to deal with that. They don’t want anything going wrong.”

“What can go wrong with making armor?”

“You might mess up and the armor doesn’t exactly manifest on your body.” Niall pulled a squeamish face. “I heard a story once about a kid who died because he put the chest plate under the skin.”

Zayn recoiled, trying hard not to envision something so gruesome. “Wow, thanks, Niall. What a pleasant image.”

The blonde made his way out of the shack, heading down to the passageway down into the valley. “Well, I had to scare you enough that you wouldn’t try it!” he reasoned, turning back to check that Zayn was following him – he was, albeit slowly with his armor and shield – before he continued talking. “So it’s really quite fun to have once you learn how to do it. You can customize it and look just as badass as you’ve always wished.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

They made it to the bottom of the valley and began to head to the little patch of ground that had been designated as the sparring area. Niall gestured towards the sword waiting for him on the ground. “I brought that down for you.”

Zayn stopped for a second, staring from the sword to Niall and then back. “So you brought the sword down but I had to carry this monstrosity?” he asked, hefting the shield. “Seriously.”

Niall grimaced a bit, seeming to connect the dots in his head. “Builds character,” he said, shrugging. Shaking it off, he adopted his ceaseless grin again. “Shall we?”

Zayn nodded and dropped the shield, ignoring Niall’s protests as he picked up the sword. “I’m not using that,” he warned. “Not a fucking chance.”

“Suit yourself.” Niall opened the fingers in his left hand and water flowed over them to harden into a protective glove, the liquid flowing up and around his body as it hardened and stayed, clinging easily to his body in a protective shield. He reached down and picked up his own spear, rolling it in his now protected grip. “You ready?”

“I’m ready.”

“Come on then,” Niall taunted, moving to circle Zayn a bit. “We taught you how to fight.”

Zayn lunged forward, swinging in an arc at Niall. Niall deflected the blow easily, sweeping the sword away with a twist of his spear.

“For god’s sake, man!” Niall laughed. “You could at least try to fight me.”

“I am,” Zayn growled, searching Niall’s stance for weaknesses. He spotted a gap in his friend’s defenses and struck, stabbing neatly out at Niall’s left arm. This time, Niall whipped his arm out of the way barely in time, and Zayn took his temporary imbalance as a cue, feinting to Niall’s right before swinging hard at Niall’s left arm again, feeling his arms vibrate with the impact as his sword hit the watery armor with blunt force, the shock of it traveling up his body.

Niall shouted out a curse and twisted away, the water shimmering as it moved with him, and he struck back at Zayn in the moment as he recovered from attacking, knocking him off balance.

Recovering himself, Zayn shrugged to try to alleviate the ache in the shoulder that Niall had hit. Niall grinned at him, panting, and began to circle again. He was favoring his left arm, Zayn noticed. He must’ve hit Niall pretty hard to make him off balance like that. “Had enough?” he teased.

“Fucking rookie,” Niall sneered, amused. “You need to be put back in your place.”

(Niall ended up winning.)

(But that didn’t mean that Zayn hadn’t let him.)

***

“Niall,” Zayn started as they unlaced their boots and swapped them for their regular shoes, “what do you have against Liam?”

Niall looked up at him with mild surprise. “What makes you think that I have something against him?”

Zayn raised his eyebrows. “You tolerate him the least, and I’ve never once seen the two of you together alone. You don’t do one-on-one practice or anything. And you sleep on a completely different bunk from him, even though his top bunk’s been available since before I got here. And that first night, it was clear that something was up.”

Niall sighed and leaned back against the wall of the shack, staring out the open doorway at the wide expanse of the property. Zayn followed his gaze and saw Harry, Nick, and Liam picking their way along the edge of the forest, and Harry raised his arms in a grand gesture, probably in the middle of a story. Niall began, “I don’t really know exactly what makes me not like him as much as I probably should.” He ruffled his fingers through his blonde-brown hair, still staring out at the trio that walked outside. “He was the one that showed me around when I got here, and even though he was probably the one that I should’ve gotten the most attached to, I didn’t really mesh with him that well. He was quiet and brooding and stuff.”

“But what about the first night that I spent with you guys? The time when Liam ran off and you and Simon had an argument. What was that about?”

A shrug of shoulders answered him. “Y’know, I wish I could say that was a one-time thing. Truth be told, that’s fairly regular. Liam blows up, Simon and Paul forgive him and brush it off, and I get pissed as fuck.” Niall’s hands were growing increasingly agitated, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shorts. “He just…he gets away with everything, all because everyone thinks he still gets a free pass after what happened with Louis.”

Zayn looked up sharply. “What happened with Louis?” he inquired, and Niall furrowed his brow, looking away quickly.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned that,” Niall said. “It’s not something for me to talk about.”

“Will there ever be a time when I’ll be completely informed of what’s gone on at this place?” Zayn asked, exasperated. “It’s like you people are physically incapable of talking about things that have gone on in the past.”

“Seems like that, doesn’t it?” Niall patted his knees and stood up, regarding Zayn with sympathetic blue eyes. “Sorry, mate, but that’s how it’s going to be until the right people tell you. Unfortunately for you, ‘the right people’ happens to be one person, and that’s Liam. Good luck to you, man.”

Zayn smiled humorlessly. “Great.”

“C’mon, cheer up. It’s not vital information to you right now, so just let it go. Want to run into the city to go grab some grub?” Niall’s eyes were filled with a new, hopeful interest.

“The rest of the guys will kill us if we don’t bring any back for them,” Zayn warned, but nonetheless, he dug his keys from his pocket and held them up, jingling them temptingly in front of Niall’s face. The blonde laughed and swiped them out of Zayn’s fingers, giggling to himself as Zayn chased him all the way down to the car.

***

“You got food?” Nick practically squealed when they got back, and he and Harry got up from their game of what seemed to be strip poker. “Bless you both!”

Zayn winked at Nick, earning himself a pleased grin and a pat on the back. Harry swiped two slices of the pizza and one whole packet of fries, chuckling to himself as he disappeared back to the dining room with his spoils in his hands.

“What, am I not good enough company?” Zayn called in mock offense, and Harry catapulted himself back into view long enough to give him a dazzling smile and a wink in return. Zayn waved him off with a grin, and Harry ducked away again.

“Did you call the rest of them in?” Nick asked, rummaging in the fridge for a soda. “I know for a fact that that pizza is for Josh and Louis because they’re the only ones that eat that shit.” He pointed with a crinkled nose at one of the pies that Zayn and Niall had bought. “And surely the pineapple monstrosity is for Simon and Paul. And the rest…” He allowed his eyes to roam over the spoils of the night. “That’s for you, Niall, and Liam. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Nick whistled in appreciation. “You catch on quick, man.”

Zayn grinned, leaning against the counter. “I have to if I’m expected to keep up with your various food demands.”

“The only way to a man’s heart,” Nick agreed.

Zayn nodded solemnly. “Where are the rest of them, by the way?”

“Last time I checked, Simon and Paul were going over expenses with Josh, and Louis and Liam were in your room playing one of the new games that they got. As far as I know.”

“When they come in, just tell them that they should probably heat the stuff up. The traffic was bad and the food got a little cold.”

A sputtering noise erupted from the dining room and Harry emerged, his face incredulous and betrayed. “The food is cold!” he announced.

Zayn shrugged. “We drove here all the way from the city. What did you expect?”

“Heat, for starters.”

“You know, there’s this magical new invention called a microwave. Perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

“Fuck off.”

Niall pulled the microwave door open. “Behold,” he announced dryly. “Heat.”

Harry frowned. “I hate you both.”

“You know that’s a lie.”

Harry stuck his tongue out. “So you think,” he replied sullenly.

“Quit whining and use the fucking microwave.”

***

Zayn decided that he was tired of his own bullshit after he’d caught himself staring at Liam for a bit too long one time too many for it to be a coincidence. He sat down next to Josh on the porch like he always did, listened to the regular banter about whatever the hell Louis had been doing, waiting until one of their comfortable lulls in conversation came up on them. He took a breath, fiddling with the condensation on his soda.

“I think I’ve developed a bit more than a crush on Liam.”

Josh took another swig of his soda, raising an eyebrow. He seemed entirely uninterested in Zayn’s confession, eyes still following a squirrel along the tree line. “Glad to know you finally figured it out, mate,” he said matter-of-factly. “About time you got your head out of your ass.” He snickered. “Bet you want something else in it, though.”

Zayn scoffed and pushed Josh’s shoulder, shoving the older boy into the wooden post on the porch railing. “I hate you.”

“I’m charming,” Josh countered, a smile bright on his face. He sighed for a bit, the smile still stretching his cheeks. “So, you’ve got it bad for a certain fire-throwing Hulk of a boy?”

“Josh…” Zayn warned.

Josh threw him a smirk and continued, “You want him to sweep you off your feet, Zaynie? Want him to make you feel bright and happy and pure?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Zayn grumbled, but still he grinned at his friend’s humor.

“As much as I’d like to…”

Zayn raised an eyebrow in Josh’s general direction. “You watch far too many soap operas with Nick.”

Josh raised his hands in surrender. “They make for good material!” he protested. He grew quiet again, then raised a coy eyebrow. “You gonna shag him?”

An aluminum can was promptly thrown at Josh’s head. “No, you ass.” Zayn rolled his eyes skyward, contorting his face into a parody of a long-suffering martyr. “You wound me, Devine. I’m not that easy. I’m not going to try to jump him.” He sighed, raising a hand to rake his fingers through his hair. “Not yet,” he added, grinning when Josh nudged his elbow. “I think…I think I’m gonna go for it. I’m going to tell him.”

“Atta boy,” Josh crowed encouragingly, and Zayn smiled, grumbling only half-heartedly when Josh trapped him in a headlock, laughing and teasing him mercilessly.

He was glad to have Josh. Definitely, undeniably happy.

It was a bright realization at that moment, and Zayn smiled down into the confines of his shirt.

He was happy.

***

He found Liam where he knew he’d find him, sitting quietly on the rock.

Maybe, somewhere along the way, it’d become theirs.

Liam's fingers absently rubbed together, a horse of flame jumping across his knuckles. He offered his hand to Zayn, as if he was making to give him the horse, but withdrew it with a pained expression just before Zayn could reach him. "That'd burn you. I just realized," he explained quietly. "Sorry."

Zayn shrugged. "Burns heal." But he didn't add the fact that he would gladly take any degree of burns if it meant prying Liam out of his shell.

"Sometimes I get jealous of Louis and Harry and the rest of them," Liam admitted after another silence. "They can offer gifts, but my power just burns."

Zayn reached over and took Liam’s hand, looking at the lines that crisscrossed his palm. “I don’t think that your power is that bad,” he mumbled, heart racing. “At least you can actually use it for something good and not just as a light bulb.”

Liam’s fingers clenched into a fist around Zayn’s hand. “I used to not be able to,” he said, so quietly that the words were almost snatched away by the breeze. “I couldn’t control it…I gave Louis these burns once because I’d hit him on the back when I was on an adrenaline rush. You know, like after you’ve won a game and you congratulate someone with a slap on the back? His jacket just caught fire and I didn’t know what to do; I didn’t know how to make it stop.” His words were pained.

“Oh,” Zayn said softly. So that was the Louis incident. “It’s over now, though,” Zayn reminded him. “Look at you now. You’re one of the greatest warriors I’ve ever seen, and you’re also one of the most compassionate.”

Liam raised his eyes to meet Zayn’s. “You think so?” He looked small and vulnerable then, and Zayn wanted nothing more than to take that fear and kiss it away.

Zayn bit his lip nervously. “And, you know, you’re also one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen.”

The fingers around Zayn’s hand uncurled suddenly, and Zayn watched as Liam’s mouth formed into an ‘o’ of surprise. “Zayn,” Liam whispered. “What?”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Zayn repeated, quieter this time because he was afraid of what would happen if he said it too loud. He held Liam’s gaze nervously, waiting for something, anything to happen. “And I think I really kind of like you. A lot.”

Liam moved forward, his dark eyes still trained on Zayn’s, and suddenly his hand was on Zayn’s waist and the other was gripping his cheek, holding it close. He leaned in and Zayn held his breath, waiting and closing his eyes because he was pretty sure he knew how this would end up–

And suddenly Liam’s firm hands were gone, the lack of warmth making Zayn shiver suddenly. He opened his eyes to see Liam backing away, his eyes wide. The younger boy shook his head, fear contorting his face.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered, looking horrified.

“What?” Zayn asked incredulously, starting forward towards Liam. “Liam, what the hell are you talking about?”

Liam looked at him for a long moment, and he shook his head again. “Stay away from me,” he muttered. “You can’t–” He took off without another word, the sentence dying on his lips.

“What the – Liam!” Zayn sprinted after the younger boy, trying to catch up with him. “Liam, dammit!”

The brown-haired boy seemed to spur himself faster at that exclamation, seemingly determined to put as much distance between him and Zayn as was humanly possible. He headed into the forest, his tall form melding with the trees and disappearing between the trunks. Zayn urged his legs to move faster, trying to catch up with Liam.

“Liam!”

He was met only with the sound of Liam’s breath as he jumped between the trees.

They broke into a clearing a little while into the forest, a wide space of dirt and sparse grass. Liam’s feet pounded across the ground, kicking up small clouds of dust.

"Jesus, Liam, please talk to me!" Zayn screamed across the expanse of the clearing. Liam ignored him, storming away, farther and farther with every step that he took. "Liam, can we just talk about this?"

Liam turned then, and it was then that Zayn saw that his face was streaked with hot tears. "About what, Zayn? About the fact that after everything I've done to stay away from everyone, you've still managed to break in? About how I'm too scared of hurting you to want this?"

"You do want it, Liam," Zayn hurled back. "You're just too much of a coward to admit it."

Liam was on him in a second, pushing him down with that strength in his thick arms. Zayn’s breath was knocked out of him when he was thrown to the ground, Liam standing over him with unbridled rage burning in his eyes. He straddled Zayn's waist, a knee on each side, and he held Zayn's wrists in a death grip. "Say that again," he hissed.

Zayn struggled under Liam's weight, staring up into his furious eyes. "I said that you're making excuses to not be with anybody. Hiding behind shadows. You're a fucking coward, Liam."

Liam's fingers grew burning hot on his wrists, and Zayn groaned in pain when the heat became searing. He glanced to the side; Liam's fingers were tight around his wrist, flames licking from them. The first scream ripped from his throat; the pain was horrifyingly real.

"Does this still feel like an excuse?" Liam yelled, and he was still crying, Zayn saw, still regretting everything. "Is this real enough for you, Zayn? Is this proof?"

"Liam, please!" Zayn begged. "You're hurting me!"

“Exactly!” he screamed right back in Zayn’s face, his dark eyes gleaming with the flames. “Do you like it now, Zayn? Do you want to be with me now?”

“Yes!” Zayn sobbed, writhing under Liam’s hold. “Liam, just make it stop! Please!”

Liam’s fingers slackened their hold on his wrists, and the flames disappeared from the tips. He scrambled off of Zayn’s body, looking yet more horrified. “Zayn,” he whispered. “Zayn, I…I–”

“Save it,” Zayn whispered, choking out the words in agony. He whimpered, curling onto his side on the ground, the dew on the leaves cooling his cheek. He tucked his arms underneath his chin, shaking because his wrists hurt; they burned and it wouldn’t stop.

“Zayn…”

“Fuck off!” Zayn screamed, and he couldn’t stop sobbing and screaming and shaking because all of this was too much and he should never have come to this fucking place; he should’ve run when he had the chance.

Liam screamed at him, “Zayn!”

“No,” he choked. “No, no, no!”

“Zayn, I’m bringing you back to the house!” Liam’s voice was high and tight and going fasttoofast fastfast like the firefireflameslickingburning wristsaching –

“Stop it,” he sobbed. “Just make it stop.”

He screamed into the night when Liam stooped to pick him up, simultaneously holding his injured wrists to his chest and trying to hold the pain away from him, hoping, wishing that the burn of it would just go awaygoawayaway –

-And suddenly the light was blazing in his face, not his light but the yellow hum of the porch outside, and Zayn’s arms throbbed in synchronization with the heartbeat of home.

“What happened?” Simon demanded, bringing a shaking Zayn into the house. Zayn shook his head; just focused on the throbbing, burning agony that hit him in waves.

“Zayn!”

“No!” Zayn screamed again, and his vision began to disappear beneath the rising waves of red, like blood and pain and fire.

“We’re taking him to the hospital. Come on.”

The fire burned.

He slept.

***

When Zayn next woke, the world was hazy and very, very white. He was delirious and without his senses for a moment, his nerves dulled and tired. But then the surface that he was lying on was jostled and every pain receptor screamed to life, shooting unbearable, agonizing pain from his wrists.

He screamed.

His vision faded to black again.

He fell asleep.

***

When he came to, they were changing his bandages.

And there he was, right beside the bed, eyes empty sockets filled with bright burning flames that Zayn knew all too well. Zayn decided to call him It.

“Zayn, I’m so sorry, so sorry,” It was saying, pleading, and in that moment, Zayn hated It.

“Get away from me!” he shrieked, and he collapsed back onto the bed, sobbing and screaming while they rewrapped the bandages around his wrist. “Get the fuck away from me!” The image of It’s face, twisted with fury, burned into his mind.

“Zayn, what’s wrong?” a doctor asked worriedly, and he paused in his ministrations to examine Zayn’s eyes. “Does it hurt too much?”

Zayn shook his head, trying to curl up on himself. “Get him out,” he whimpered. “Get him away, make him leave, for god’s sake.”

The doctor’s face contorted in confusion and concern. “Make who leave, Zayn?”

“It,” Zayn whispered, staring over the man’s shoulder at the figure with the eyes on fire.

“Okay, Zayn,” Paul soothed from somewhere to his left, and suddenly there was a pricking sensation in his arm, and Zayn’s consciousness slipped away into the dark.

***

They let him go home after they were sure that he wouldn’t keep having such violent panic attacks.

He was still ordered to be kept in the little infirmary at home, curled up in a bed with scratchy white sheets and no sources of entertainment, excepting the little TV in the corner. But that only got a few channels and Zayn didn’t really care for television much anymore.

As it turned out, they’d had to put grafts over the skin that had really been burned away, but otherwise he’d have permanent scarring from the burns. Zayn had taken the news listlessly, senses dulled by morphine while he was trying to absorb the fact that he would never be the same, that he would never be whole again; that fire had taken something from him like it’d taken his family. All over again.

He lay facing the wall opposite the infirmary door, eyes slowly tracing over the outlines of the wooden wall panels.

Paul and Simon needed to consider redecorating.

He was about to turn back around to turn on the lamp and read a few chapters in his Andy Warhol biography when the door to the infirmary opened with the slow, halting sound of a person taking care to be quiet. Zayn lay silent, listening.

“What do you think happened?” There was Niall, his voice hushed and curious and worried.

Josh’s voice replied, quick and low. “It was Liam. He says he got angry. He won’t say anything else until he gets to see Zayn.”

A snort of derisive laughter followed. “D’you see the state that he’s in? Why would he want to see Liam of all people?”

“I’m worried about him, Ni,” Josh murmured, his voice speaking volumes although it did not get any louder. “Before the accident, he told me that he was going to talk to Liam, and tell him about…about his feelings for Liam.”

Niall swore quietly under his breath. “So Liam blew up,” he completed for Josh, sounding infinitely more furious.

“I suppose.”

“The cunt,” Niall snarled. “Of all people to hurt, he gets to Zayn, and he’s barely been here for a few months. For the love of god, he’d just told him about his feelings, and he did this?”

There was a pregnant pause, and Zayn felt the combined gazes of his friends burning into his back.

“Whatever it is that set him off, he can’t just get away with this.” Niall’s voice was low and hateful. “Who just hurts a guy because they told them their feelings? Fucking sick, that’s what this is.”

“Don’t make this worse, Niall,” Josh begged. “Wait until Zayn’s better, and we can talk to him. For now, just…just wait, okay?”

“Fuck,” Niall swore, and his voice was furious still. “I just–”

“Niall.”

A deep sigh reached Zayn. “Fine. But as soon as Zayn gives me the go sign, I’m going to make sure that Liam fucking pays.”

Josh’s voice was strained. “Niall, you can’t just be so angry at him all the time.”

“I can if he hurts my friends.”

“Come on, Niall. You can sleep with Nick and me tonight.”

Twin footsteps left the room, leaving Zayn alone in the all-consuming silence that filled the room. He shifted in the bed. The sheets were itching again, caked with the dried bits of ointment that had seeped into the cotton.

He sighed.

He’d really been hoping that they’d at least bring him a goddamn snack.

***

Zayn was pretty sure that it’d been a week since the incident.

His wrists still burned like hell, despite every lotion and ointment and treatment that Paul and Simon bought and brought to him. The flames had taken much of the skin from his wrists, and in one place while Simon had replaced the wrappings on his right wrist, Zayn had caught a glimpse of bone where his skin had been thinnest, just barely covered by the new graft.

It was sickening.

The other boys had come and gone, each bearing soft words and sympathetic eyes. Zayn had been mildly amused by the pictures that Louis had showed him; he knew that his friend could always make him smile, even if it was only a little bit.

Zayn didn’t bother to ask where Simon and Paul had gotten the supplies of morphine. All he knew was that it helped take the edge off, bringing him to a state of blissful ignorance. Or something close to it.

He wondered if this was how drug addicts felt.

“Simon, I need to talk to him!” a familiar voice protested, agonized and guilty.

Zayn squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sound of Liam. It was too much, too soon; too painful.

“Zayn?” Simon called from the door; Zayn pried his eyes open to stare over at his mentor. The dark-haired man was standing in front of the door, but Zayn could still see Liam’s wide puppy-dog eyes peering in from outside of the room. “Zayn, can Liam come in? He wants to talk to you.”

“Get him out,” Zayn whispered, shutting his eyes again and turning listlessly away. “Just get him out.”

He stared at the wall blankly, listening to the frenzied whispers of Simon and Liam as Simon tried to get Liam to leave and Liam protested vehemently. There was something about Zayn needing his space but also that Liam needed to apologize and it all blurred together until it drifted away in Zayn’s brain to be deciphered later.

For now, he needed to sleep.

He was hurting all over.

Inside and out.

***

“Zayn, can you tell me what happened?”

Listless eyes turned to where Paul and Simon sat next to his bed, and he picked at the threadbare edge of his blanket. “Got burned,” he said quietly.

Paul’s eyebrows rose a bit. “I can tell, Zayn, but thanks for informing me.”

“Who did it? It was Liam, wasn’t it, Zayn?”

Zayn flinched at the mention of Liam’s name, suddenly overwhelmed with burning flames and burning eyes and burning wrists–

“Zayn! Zayn, calm down! Let go, Zayn!”

Zayn looked down at where Paul’s strong hands were holding him tightly on his forearms, just below his bandages. He saw blood seeping through the pristine white of his bandages, spreading to seep onto the thin expanse of his arm. “What happened?” he murmured, not feeling entirely there.

Simon’s eyes were fiercely concerned. “You started scratching at them.”

“Hm. Look at that.” Zayn regarded his bleeding wrists with mild interest, watching as Paul gently began to unwrap one of them. Simon moved to his other side and began to work on the other one, removing the gauze and thick cotton that were beginning to be soaked with the blood that leaked through them. “When did that happen?”

Paul frowned. “Just now.”

Zayn frowned, wincing and whimpering when the ragged skin of his wrists was pulled at by the moving bandages. “He got angry,” he whispered, and Simon’s eyes flickered to his face. “We were talking, and I leaned in, and I don’t know what I did, did I do something wrong?” He felt the tears streaming down his face. “What did I do wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong, Zayn,” Simon’s voice soothed. “We’re going to give you a bit of morphine for the pain, alright?”

“Why did he do it?” Zayn whimpered, staring up at the white ceiling as it faded to blue, then gray, and then to that all-consuming black.

He welcomed it.

***

“Feeling better?”

Zayn grinned up at Harry. “Much.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Is that the morphine talking?”

“You’re hilarious,” Zayn drawled. “I’ve been off the stuff since Monday.”

“It’s Tuesday, Zayn.”

Zayn threw his head back on the pillow, groaning loudly. “That doesn’t matter,” he whined. “Just get me out of this room; I’m going to claw my face off if I stay in this fucking place for another minute.”

Harry turned away for a second. “Paul, can I take him back to our room? Is he good to go?”

Paul’s smile was wide. “It’s been a while, but he doesn’t have those episodes anymore, and the burns are healing well, so I suppose he’s fine to go back where he belongs.”

“Thank god!” Zayn hopped out of the bed, kicking off the covers and heading brightly towards the door to the rest of the house. He swung his wrists along, ignoring the unnaturally heavy weight of them hanging at his sides. He had an itch on his right hand that he knew he couldn’t scratch, but he was determined not to let anything get in the way of the happiness he felt at finally being allowed to leave. “C’mon, Harry!”

Harry watched him go, calling out “I’m coming” before he turned back to Paul, his smile slowly slipping from his face. “He’s not even close to being all right, is he?”

“Harry!” Zayn called shrilly from outside the door. Harry glanced over at the door nervously; he couldn’t keep Zayn waiting for too long.

Paul frowned. “Don’t let him out of your sight, Harry. And don’t let him near Liam. Not now. Not for a long while.”

***

“Breakfast?” Niall held out the full plate of warm pancakes to Zayn.

“Oh, yes.” Zayn slipped a plate from the dishwasher and plucked three of the golden brown discs from the plate that he was being offered, nodding to Niall in thanks as he took a bite of one. Groaning happily at the perfect taste – Harry really was brilliant at this – he headed over to his regular spot at the table. The syrup was across the table, and he reached out to grab it, disgruntled when he could not reach it.

A large hand picked up the bottle and handed it to him. Zayn took it with a grin. “Thanks,” he said happily, and then he looked up at who’d helped him.

Liam.

He froze in his chair, the glass syrup bottle dropping, forgotten, to the ground. The distant shattering of the glass was lost on Zayn’s ears, replaced by the fevered sound of his own beating heart.

“Zayn?” The voice came through a void, through a tunnel; through water.

“Get him out of here! Can’t you see what he’s doing to Zayn?”

A rustle sounded beside him, and a hand grabbed his arm, firing deadened synapses to life all at once. “C’mon, Zayn, let’s get you to your room.”

Zayn allowed himself to be blindly led upstairs.

“You okay?” Josh asked him, sitting him down on his bed. His face swam into focus, eyes plaintively staring at him. “You zoned out for a bit there.”

“He was right there,” Zayn muttered, wringing his hands nervously. He was beginning to shake. “I couldn’t face him, Josh, I couldn’t.”

“I know,” Josh soothed, and he sat in front of Zayn for a while, just holding Zayn’s hands gently. “It’ll be okay. He’s staying with Nick and me until you’re comfortable with bringing him back in here. This whole thing is all up to you.”

Faintly, Zayn said, “Thanks.” He really was grateful.

He just wished that he wasn’t so afraid.

***

Zayn leaned back in the grass, staring up at the brightness of the stars. A few of his glowing orbs bobbed around his head, dimly lit but still merrily floating about. They were comforting in their presence, warm and constant. His hands lay folded on his stomach, immobile still with their suffocating white bandages. It still hurt like hell, and any movement of his wrists sent a searing burning sensation through his arms.

The air was clear and the valley seemed to have regained most of its energy after the battle. Still, there was a bit of the deadness that remained after such an explosion of energy, like a nuclear zone that had not yet recovered from its radiation. But it was healing. Everything was healing.

Almost.

Liam was avoiding him.

It was more than a subtle bit of evasive maneuvers. No, this was a full-out set of detours that Liam had set out specifically to avoid any direct contact with Zayn. True, Zayn was making it a bit easier for him by keeping his own distance, but it still hurt all the same. Every time that Zayn went to their rock, the place where they’d sat in silence and had just been, he found it empty. He was never joined by the younger boy, and somehow, even in the sun, the rock felt colder without Liam there.

Sometimes, Zayn contemplated just going up to Liam and slapping him in the face, but there was always the conflict in him saying no. One side insisted that it would solve nothing, and the other screamed that a slap wasn’t nearly enough of a punishment.

Also, his hands hurt like a bitch so a slap would probably hurt him more than Liam.

Also, he didn’t think he’d be able to face Liam. Not for a long while.

So they avoided each other.

One of the small floating orbs glided over to Zayn’s fingers, its pleasant warmth tickling the skin there and soothing the pain away, just for a little while. Zayn reached out and nudged it with his hand, and the other orbs floated over, coalescing into a larger ball of light. Zayn, smiling, watched as the light shaped into a little cat that butted its head against his arm, the warmth of its shape passing through his skin.

The light had become his saving grace since the accident, and he’d found that the amorphous properties of the orbs made for entertaining displays. In his infirmary bed, he’d acted out great battles with only the dimly glowing forms as his toys. A few times, he could swear that he’d seen someone watching from the door.

Zayn closed his eyes and nestled his head in the grass, breathing in the refreshing scent of nature around him. The tiredness in his mind took over, defeating the spinning thoughts that whipped through his mind, and Zayn fell asleep with the image of Liam’s furious eyes finally fading from his mind.

***

When Liam finally approached him for the first time, it was just after battle practice.

Zayn was tying the laces of his sneakers, having already changed out of his sweaty practice clothes. He looked up when the door to the small shack opened, expecting Louis or Harry, since he’d been practicing with them. Instead, he was met with wide brown eyes like a doe’s that glimmered with fear and guilt.

“Liam,” he said flatly, his voice not sounding like his own. It didn’t betray the utter terror that was brewing in his chest.

“Zayn, please listen to me,” Liam begged, and he stepped forward, reaching out a hand to touch Zayn’s shoulder. “Zayn, I’m so–”

His hand touched Zayn’s shoulder, and Zayn flinched so hard that the motion actually threw Liam’s hand off. The memories came pouring back from that place in Zayn’s mind where he’d kept them locked up, and he couldn’t have those hands near him, not after what they’d done. “Go away,” he commanded, his voice a trembling whisper.

Liam’s eyes were agonized. “Zayn,” he protested, but he was interrupted by a cleared throat. They both looked to the entrance of the shack, where Louis stood framed by light in the doorway.

“You’d best be leaving him, Liam,” Louis warned. “I’m not kidding.”

“Louis, hear me out,” Liam began, but Zayn stood up and edged quickly around Liam, ignoring the trailing laces on his shoes. He tried to avoid Liam’s touch as much as he could, hearing the thin whisper of his name that followed him out of the shack.

Louis put his arms around Zayn as they left, holding him tightly and guiding him away. “You alright?” he asked quietly, squeezing his shoulders as they approached a concerned-looking Harry.

“Yeah, mate. Thanks for that. If you hadn’t been there, I’d have been toast.”

“Everything fine?” Harry asked, his wide eyes ticking between Louis and Zayn.

“Liam,” was all Louis offered as explanation, and Harry nodded sagely.

The younger boy wrapped up Zayn and Louis in a warm hug, beginning to tell a story about a man he’d seen in the city, and Zayn forgot everything for a while.

***

Boticelli.

Titian.

The book of the week was one on art history, and Zayn was determined to get all the way through artists of the Renaissance before bed. It’d been a month since he’d left the infirmary.

Donatello.

Michelangelo.

“Zayn.”

He looked up. He was not a Renaissance artist.

“Hi, Liam,” Zayn replied quietly.

Liam’s face was one of agonized guilt. “Can we talk?”

Zayn jerked his chin towards the chair opposite his. Liam went to it slowly, his eyes watching Zayn carefully. Zayn regarded him with equal wariness. Liam didn’t seem to be a threat right now, but that could change at any second. Liam’s fear seemed to be the fear that Zayn would attack him. “Why’d you do it?” he asked flatly, suddenly. The boldness was there only because he knew if he waited any longer, he’d have to run.

“I–”

“How could you possibly do that to a person? How could you let me compliment you and admit my feelings for you and then end up running away and setting me the fuck on fire? Where is the logic in that? Do you expect to pull the ladies with that one?”

“I panicked.”

Zayn laughed humorlessly. “I could tell.”

“I wasn’t expecting something like that, and I couldn’t allow myself to get too close because I didn’t want to run the risk of getting you hurt.”

Zayn held up his wrists for Liam to see. “I think we’ve passed that point, sweetheart,” he drawled.

Liam stared at the bandages with a fearsome intensity. “My temper is something that I’ve tried to control. Usually my instincts are in check, but they weren’t this time. And you got hurt. And for that, I am so sorry.” He leaned forward and made to touch Zayn’s arm.

Zayn flinched from the touch.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me. Please.” Zayn closed his eyes. “Not yet. Later, soon hopefully, but not yet. I can’t right now.”

Liam’s presence withdrew from near Zayn, and he opened his eyes to see Liam standing by the door. “I’m going up to bed. We can talk later.”

“We can,” Zayn echoed quietly.

“I just. Just, fuck, Zayn, I’m sorry.”

“You said we’d talk later,” Zayn told him, fixing him with an expectant stare. Liam nodded and ducked his head.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

“Yes, I suppose.”

Caravaggio.

Raphael.

Da Vinci.

***

“Pass me the Cheetos.”

“No, dammit, they were mine first.”

“Louis, the Cheetos. Seriously.”

“No!”

“I swear to god, I am going to count to three.”

“Harry, that doesn’t work on me.”

“One.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that you’ll go through with it.”

“Two.”

Zayn giggled, watching Harry’s perfectly solemn face and Louis’s doubting and smiling one.

“I dare you,” Louis taunted, holding the bowl of Cheetos up in the air.

“Three!” Harry leaped at Louis, bowling him over and popping up with the treats held triumphantly in his hands. “I warned you!” he cheered gleefully.

“Fuck you,” Louis grunted, struggling to right himself in his chair. “I just don’t think that was at all civilized.”

“Who even cares about civilized?” Liam asked smoothly, reaching over to grab Cheetos from Harry’s newfound bowl. “Look at yourself, Tommo. There’s something not right about you.”

“You know what, Liam, you can just–” Louis paused, his head jerking towards the window of their room. “Did you hear that?”

Zayn shifted in his spot on the floor. “No. What was it?”

Louis’s pale eyes were narrowed, and briefly the air stirred with the storming of his thoughts. “Someone’s outside,” he hissed, and he crossed to the open window, vaulting over the edge and out into the air.

Startled, Zayn made to get up and stop his friend, but Niall seemed to have noticed his concern because he chuckled, “He does that all the time. The air catches him. He’ll be fine. Just a bump in the night.”

“What the – shit! Get back here!”

Zayn exchanged a fearful glance with Niall. “That’s not good,” Zayn muttered, and he tugged his shoes on, tripping down the stairs in an effort to get down quickly while still putting on his sneakers. He heard Harry, Niall, and Liam in hot pursuit behind him, pounding down the stairs.

Zayn was the first one to get outside, and he exited the house into a peaceful, quiet night. He raised his hand, peering out into the darkness outside the house.

Silence.

“Louis?”

A branch snapped.

Zayn lit up his hand, a small orb of light hovering over his palm. The whitish wash of light cast shadows across the familiar trees and bushes. Zayn drew back his arm and threw the ball, watching its bright form sail through the ferns. Its light reflected off of something as it passed, glinting off what looked like metal. It faded out with a hiss when it impacted the tree, exploding into glimmering dust.

Zayn moved closer, another ball of light at the ready.

The metal object flickered and moved, and suddenly a soldier shot off into the underbrush, his armor clinking as he fled into the woods.

And there was suddenly a scream from inside the woods.

“Louis? Louis? Louis!” Zayn screamed into the forest, running and pushing past roots; trying to follow the sounds of the retreating footsteps through the trunks of the trees.

The soldier ahead of him panted with exertion, and Zayn knew he was catching up. He reached out a hand to grab the trespasser’s shoulder.

Suddenly, he tripped and fell, and as he landed, he realized that it’d been no rock. It’d been soft. “Louis!” Zayn yelled, and suddenly a groan cut through the air. “Lou!”

Zayn scooped up the body, so birdlike and light in what he prayed was only slumber. Blood was streaked across the lines of Louis’s cheekbones, turning his angelic face to one that was too garish and too much like what Zayn had  always hoped would never happen to anyone he loved. “Louis,” Zayn begged, sitting on the ground and cradling Louis in his arms, “stay with me. Someone’s going to help you. Just stay with me.”

“Zayn!”

Liam burst through the underbrush, his hands alight with flickering flames. His dark eyes traveled to Zayn, and then down further to see Louis lying so broken in Zayn’s arms. “Zayn, what happened?” he whispered.

“Take care of him,” Zayn hissed, and he placed Louis gently into Liam’s outstretched arms, watching as Liam let the flames die from his fingertips. “I’m going after the bastard.”

“Zayn!” Liam protested, but Zayn silenced him with a glare, flashing his heavily bandaged wrists in the light. Liam caught sight of them and fell silent, casting his eyes downward. The shame for what he’d done, evidently, was enough to keep Liam in check. Zayn noted that for later and dashed off, heading after whatever fucker had dared to hurt Louis.

The trees were menacingly large and twisted in the light that glowed from his fingertips, the brightness flickering with the magnitude of Zayn’s rage. Somewhere ahead, the clinking metal of the fleeing soldier turned into a crash, and Zayn nearly tripped over the discarded armor that he encountered mere seconds afterwards. The fucker was trying to get all unwanted weight off and trip him up in the process. Zayn swore and hopped over the metal breastplate, urging his hands to glow brighter.

“Where are you, bastard?” Zayn shouted, and he stopped in the center of a clearing, circling slowly. A branch cracked behind him, and he looked over his shoulder, leaving himself open, too open –

A hard, heavy weight crashed into him from his undefended front, knocking him to the ground. Zayn gasped as the breath was knocked out of him.

The light extinguished, and all Zayn could see were the whites of the man’s eyes. “You sick fuck,” Zayn snarled, trying to get out from underneath the man’s body. When he managed to get an arm out and made to swing it at the man’s face, his wrist was caught and held to the ground in a viselike grip.

His wrist screamed in protest, the tortured skin beneath the bandages burning like new flames were there. “Fuck,” he spat, struggling to take the weight from his injured flesh.

“Malik!” the soldier hissed, holding a dagger to his throat. “No friends to protect you now, are there?”

Zayn struggled in the other man’s grip, extricating his other hand from underneath himself and slamming it into the man’s face, willing for something to happen, anything. He needed the light.

In a single moment, a surge of something coursed through Zayn, and it was with disbelief and wonder that Zayn watched a burst of light explode from the eyes and mouth of the soldier, burning brightly and heating his face with the power of it.

The soldier screamed, but the sound was cut off all at once as the light pulsed brighter. Zayn wrinkled his nose at the rank stench of burning flesh, trying to ignore the smell. He took his hand cautiously from the head of the soldier, and the man did not move.

He’d killed him.

Pushing the limp body of the man off of him, Zayn struggled to his feet, groaning and rubbing his wrists. They were probably bleeding again, with his luck. He shook his hands a bit, trying to get blood flow back to them, and then he lit them up again.

He raced back to the house, hands alight and heart racing because he needed to know if Louis was okay.

Bursting from the forest into the front yard near the house, he saw Liam waiting for him on the yard, face cast in shadow by the porch light. He sped up, heading towards the taller boy. “What the hell happened there? What happened to Lou?” he demanded once he’d gotten within earshot.

“Ambush,” Liam replied simply, glancing over his shoulder at the house. “They led him out and then attacked him.”

“His condition?”

“Okay. They thankfully didn’t have time to do anything too bad, thanks to you. They got a really bad cut in on his neck that just barely missed the vein, and there’re a few lacerations on his face. Nothing too bad, but he’ll be on vocal rest for a bit after the cut heals.”

Zayn let out a breath, running his hands through his hair. “So they’re doing stitches?”

“As far as I know.” Liam took a more focused look at him, really assessing him. “What about you? What happened out there?”

“The guy knocked me down, held me down, was about to kill me, and then I got him. He’s dead.”

Liam’s brow furrowed, and he reached out tentatively, his fingers hovering just above Zayn’s wrists. “May I?” he asked quietly.

Zayn nodded tersely, and for the first time in weeks, he let Liam touch his skin.

He was gentle about it, lifting Zayn’s wrists into the light of the porch. “You’re bleeding again,” he said softly, looking over the wounds in turn. “You need to get your bandages changed.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Zayn tried to steady his breathing, watching Liam’s expression. It was one of incredible guilt, looking in anguish at the blood-soaked bandages that covered the wounds he’d inflicted. “I should probably go inside and do that.”

“Yeah.” Liam nodded, clearing his throat and carefully letting go of Zayn. “You should just go in. We’re going to have a meeting in a little while once they’re done with Louis. So I’ll, you know. See you there.”

“See you there,” Zayn echoed.

He went inside.

***

“So there was just one attacker?” Harry asked, furrowing his brow. He sipped at his tea, looking between everybody gathered in the dining room. “Are you sure? I’m not sure that a guy could be in that many places at once.”

“There had to have been another one,” Zayn reasoned. “There was someone that lured him out of the house and into the forest, and then there was the guy that I killed that ended up hurting him.”

Simon nodded, stroking his chin in thought. “You’re probably right, Zayn. But why now? Why Louis?”

“I don’t think that there was any particular target in mind,” Zayn replied, furrowing his brow. “They couldn’t have known that Louis would go out and investigate the sound. All they wanted was a victim; it didn’t matter who, as long as they got someone.”

“That’s possible.”

“More than possible,” Liam reasoned, and Zayn flicked his gaze over to look at him. It was the first time that he’d gotten a good look at Liam in a while, and he could see that the past few weeks had been as hard on Liam as they had been on Zayn. The spaces under Liam’s normally bright brown eyes were dark and baggy, giving Liam’s eyes an uncharacteristically dull appearance.

“So someone from the other side now knows the nature of our home, and of Zayn’s new powers. They couldn’t have missed the light.” Simon scrubbed his face with his hand. “This puts them at an advantage. We don’t have the element of surprise with Zayn anymore.”

Zayn tore his eyes from Liam and turned back to Simon, a memory suddenly dawning on him at Simon’s words. “When I killed him, it wasn’t with a weapon,” he explained in a rush.

“Oh?” Simon raised an eyebrow.

“No. It was the light. The light that killed the guys that were going at Liam during the battle. I used it. I killed him.”

Simon’s face twitched into a smile. “We’ll have to talk about that later, then,” he told Zayn, and Zayn could practically feel the older man’s pride.

***

When Zayn went to visit Louis in the infirmary, the older boy was restless and bright-eyed despite the bandages stretching across his neck and face, covering up the slashes from the ambusher.

“Zayn!” he greeted happily, patting the small patch of bed beside him. “Come into my office. What brings you here? Shouldn’t you be out training?’

“Nah.” Zayn dropped the bag of fries onto the table beside Louis’s bed and flopped onto the sheets beside his friend. “Simon let me take some time off to get you some good old fashioned city comfort.”

The way that Louis’s eyes lit up in gratefulness poked at an aching hole in his chest where Perrie had been, all doe-like and trusting. “Thanks, mate,” Louis said sincerely, “I mean it.”

“How are you feeling?” The bandages were familiar too, crossing over wounds that could just as easily have been bruises from a boyfriend’s harsh fists. They both had the cheekbones that looked fragile and weak beneath a wound, like they were made from porcelain. “Do you remember much of it?”

“Not really.” His voice caught on the words, still rough from the abuse to his neck. “Just hanging out with you, chasing the guy into the forest, and that was about it, really.”

“I should’ve been able to save you,” Zayn said quietly.

Louis waved that off. “You did, Zayn.”

“Too late, though,” he protested.

“But worse things could’ve happened if you hadn’t followed me in,” Louis countered, voice raspy and quiet and intense. “You killed that man with your light.”

“But I don’t know how,” Zayn lamented, frustrated.

Louis poked a finger into his chest. “Then go find out,” he ordered.

***

“I need a weapon,” Zayn hissed, slamming the door to Simon’s office open.

He was sick and tired of relying on luck to get him out of situations, especially situations where the lives of his friends were at stake. He was especially sick of only knowing how to conjure up a shield.

He was tired of being useless.

Simon looked up from his paperwork. He looked mildly surprised, but somehow it seemed that he’d been waiting for Zayn to say it.

“Okay,” he said simply. “Meet me outside tomorrow after breakfast.”

***

Simon and Zayn strode through the valley, heading to the center where battle practice was held. As they walked, Simon told him, “It took me quite a while to figure out, mind you. I tried to think of what could possibly make light so deadly. What could make such harmless rays into something that could burn a man like fire, but with ten times the speed and half the mess?”

“I suppose you have an answer,” Zayn offered in reply. “You figured it out, then?”

"You've been endowed with one of the most powerful and deadly gifts of our kind. It's quite rare, and light is actually very deadly when concentrated right."

Zayn arched a brow skeptically - he'd taken to doing that more often since he'd lived at the house - and conjured up a ball of his light, letting it hover over his palm. "This is not dangerous," he told Simon, gesturing to the orb wildly. "This is nice and warm and will light up a room."

"Like a miniature sun," Simon countered. "Did you study the sun in school, Zayn?"

"Yeah, but I don't see how-"

"The sun has the capability to fuse atoms and elements at a level that can obliterate anything that the world can throw at you. Your light is sun-derived. You're a solar conduit, Zayn. You can attack enemies with actual pieces of the sun."

Zayn examined the orb above his palm. "And this? What's this?"

"Essentially, the rays of the sun, not the sun itself. It varies." Simon seemed so confident in his information, and despite how ridiculous it sounded, Zayn couldn’t help but believe him. Simon pulled him towards the row of dummies in the training area. “Here, think of it as the times when you’d use a magnifying glass to direct sunlight at an ant to set it on fire, only you’re the magnifying glass and the sun this time.” Simon gestured at the first dummy. “Just focus the light. Hold out your hand and just do it.”

“Just…do it?”

“Like riding a bike,” Simon encouraged, “only this time, you’ve never seen a bike before in your life. But still, it comes to you.”

“I can’t,” Zayn said, frustrated.

“Remember the rage,” his mentor ordered him. “Remember someone trying to kill Liam and Louis. Remember that.”

The blood streaked across Louis’s face and the red welts across Liam’s wrists flashed before Zayn’s eyes, and Zayn saw the hate-filled eyes of the soldier hovering above him. Red splashed across his vision, and then it converged on a single point in front of him, and Zayn let the light take over.

The head of the dummy was suddenly gone when the rage-red blur faded from his eyes, replaced by a smoking stump where it had been. Simon’s hands clapped beside him, the sharp sound jerking him from his slow-moving stupor, and he looked to his mentor with a swift motion. “Did I just…?” he gestured vaguely to the dummy.

Simon nodded, a smile gracing his lips. “You did.”

Zayn grinned suddenly, baring his teeth in a smile that felt powerful and feral and wild, and he felt the wind stir his hair, bringing the scent of charred straw to his nose, and he laughed. He laughed at the sky, triumphing in the fact that he could stare in the face of the sun unharmed.

Finally.

This was his calling; he was at last one of them.

They were far from the battle site, walking around the perimeter of the house when Simon spoke again.

“Okay, now we need to try it on something that’s living to see if you can kill automatically.”

Zayn shook his head. “No,” he said outright. “I’m not killing anything unless I have to. Like, battle, for example.”

Simon rolled his eyes and pushed him towards the chicken coup that was kept beside the house. “It’s dinner, Zayn. It has to die either way.” He pointed to a fat hen that was pecking at some seed on her own. “Do it now, without thinking; just let it happen.”

He stared regretfully at the chicken, watching it cluck and scratch at the dirt. "I can’t believe I'm doing this," he sighed, but still he raised his hand and pictured the fat animal dying, roasting, and he swore that he could see the sun burning behind his eyes as the chicken died suddenly, a brief burst of light exploding from her eyes as she fell.

Simon nodded in approval. "Good job, Zayn," he praised, and he picked the dead hen up by the legs, inspecting it with critical eyes. "You managed to get it pretty quickly. The training caught on already."

Zayn shrugged. "I suppose." He stared at the chicken. "So what the fuck is this thing that I can do?"

"I guess you can still call it light power, but of a different type."

Zayn raised an eyebrow. "Are you calling me a breed, Simon? Like some sort of horse?"

Simon's dark eyes glinted in a smile, but he still studied Zayn with a sort of intent curiosity. "You're very different, Zayn. That's all we know."

"Why, then?"

"Do we need to ask?" Simon gestured widely to the valley as a whole. "All of us are different for some reason; I haven't seen any other ones of us with powers of the same caliber as us. That's why they want us."

"But they want us dead."

His mentor's eyes were tired and sad. "Unfortunately, yes. It has come to that. But they still want us for the power that lies in us, whether they can control us alive or harness it when we're dead at their feet."

Zayn blinked into the sun, trying to feel a kinship with the star that, somewhere in the universe, was harnessed to him like he was the sun and it the satellite. "Where do I play into this?" he asked.

"You train. You learn how to become a warrior and a defender and a force of nature. And then..." Simon shrugged. "Then we fight our kind again, I suppose."

"And if we win?"

"Then we'll have saved the world from facing a threat that it isn't prepared for."

Ice settled in Zayn's veins. "And if we lose?"

Simon sighed. "Then we lose. Then everyone loses." He paused. "But they're not as strong as us, not by a long shot. With so many of them acting as a unit and not as individual fighters, they don't train specifically for their strengths. We, on the other hand, have worked hard to hone our abilities."

"Hard enough to beat an army ten times the size of ours?"

“Hard enough to try.”

***

“Hold still!” Nick chided, whacking Zayn on the head. “I can’t remove the bandages if you fidget so much!”

“I’m excited,” Zayn grated, kicking his legs in little pumps. “Nick, c’mon.”

The older man frowned in concentration, pulling delicately at the material. “This might hurt. Or be messy. Or both.”

Zayn snorted. “Do your worst.”

Nick smirked and unraveled the white bandage from Zayn’s right wrist. “There we go.” He eased the fabric from Zayn’s skin, wrinkling his nose at the dead skin that sloughed off in its wake. “I do so hate this part.”

“Well, do it quicker and you can be done,” Zayn pestered.

“Shut up, man,” Nick scolded. Carefully, he picked at the fabric and it finally came free from the first wrist, revealing the scarring beneath.

It'd been a while since the bandages had been changed, and the sight came as a shock to him.

The wrist beneath was thin and emaciated. Stretched over the stark outlines of bones and tendons was a thin white and red mess of scar tissue, and some small patches of tan showed where the doctors had needed to graft on some skin.

It was hideous.

When Zayn looked up at Nick, the older man seemed to be trying to hide his grimace. “You don’t have to pretend,” Zayn said softly. “It’s a mess and we both know it.”

“Let’s just get the rest off, shall we?” Nick replied lightly, skirting around the subject. He started to pull at the bandaging on the other hand, revealing an equally burnt and scarred wrist.

Zayn stared at his arms quietly. “Can you leave?” he asked calmly.

“Zayn-”

“Please, Nick.”

Nick nodded. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He left slowly, closing the door behind him quietly.

Zayn bit at his lip, looking down at the twisted and ruined flesh. He tried to calm his shaking breaths, closing his eyes until all he could see was black. His fists clenched of their own volition, and Zayn hissed to feel the scarred skin of his wrists pull stiffly with the movement.

Bending his head down to rest in his hands, in his ruined hands, he sobbed.

***

It was hard, the physical therapy, gaining movement back in his wrists. With every movement, his skin pulled and ached and burned anew, but Zayn would grit his teeth.

His family had faced worse, his mother and father, his sisters-

He would recover from this, he would.

For them.

***

“Hi.”

Zayn swiveled his chair away from the desk, arm instinctively darting out to cover the drawing that he’d been working on. “Liam,” he greeted upon seeing his visitor. “This is a surprise.”

The brunette shrugged, looking down at his hands. He tugged at the watch on his wrist. “Are you able to come out for a walk with me?”

Zayn glanced mournfully at the drawing, silently apologizing to his criminally underused pencils. "I suppose," he replied at last. Brushing off his hands to rid them of graphite dust, he stood up to meet Liam. “Where are we going?” he asked warily.

Liam waved a hand in dismissal. “Just...out.”

“...Out,” Zayn repeated slowly. “Okay, then.” He followed him out into the yard, crossing towards the forest. They ducked into its quiet warmth, the way ahead dappled green and gold. The air was still and earthy, comforting.

“I have this tree,” Liam began, picking his way through a patch of trailing weeds, “and I use it to take my anger out on something. It’s...personal, I guess.”

“Apparently so.” In all honesty, Zayn didn’t really want to talk or even be all that close to Liam, but still he was here, walking through the forest when once he had run, chasing Liam through it, running and running because they had been so young, so foolish and young and impulsive. Now their fragile porcelain world was broken and Zayn was part of the shattered pieces, trying to pick himself up again. Still damaged, still wary, but somehow growing and healing, the cracks still there but growing smaller, fusing back together again under the careful watch of the boy who had shattered him in the first place.

“You really can’t tell anyone. If the rest of them knew that I had to do this to control myself, they would lock me up.”

“It’s probably not nearly as bad as you make it out to be,” Zayn assured him, stepping over a log. Liam didn’t reply, only stared straight ahead as he walked with his back rigid. For just a moment, his fingers flickered with a hint of bright flames, sparking with Liam’s nerves, and Zayn almost didn’t flinch away.

Almost.

His healing wrists began to ache, a pain that had plagued him for ages and that he suspected would stay with him forever, so long as Liam was near. Liam seemed to sense what he was thinking, because he abruptly said, “Wounds inflicted by our powers seem to have that effect. Lasting, chronic effects that can never heal completely.”

“Is that why Niall forgets things?”

Liam nodded solemnly as he ducked under a branch, pushing it away from his face. “Yeah, the electrocution got to him in a way that we can’t fix. I wish it wouldn’t be like that, but that’s what happens to people with lives like ours. We have to live with it.”

Zayn glances at the spot on Liam’s arm where he knew the burn resided beneath his shirt. “And burns?”

“Even if you got the best possible treatment, it’s never truly healed. There’s always the ache of an old injury, even when there’s no proof that the injury was ever there.” Liam shrugged. “That’s just the way it is.”

“Great.” Zayn kicked a pebble out of the way. “So where are we going?”

“The tree. The place that I go to when I can’t handle it.” Liam picked up his pace, now taking the lead in front of Zayn into the undergrowth.

“Handle what?”

Liam turned to him for a second, his soft eyes hardening with red. “The fire.”

Zayn’s wrists burned.

“I don’t want–”

“You have to.” Liam stopped and turned around, towering and firm. “You have to or this – us, friends or whatever we are – will never happen right. You have to know me, Zayn. You have to see this.”

Zayn rolled his wrists gingerly. Liam’s eyes caught the movement and suddenly his whole demeanor became softer, gentler. His large hands reached out and took hold of Zayn’s wrists. Zayn tried not to flinch at the burn, although Liam’s touch was soft and delicate. “Follow me,” Liam encouraged. “I’m right here.”

Quietly, meekly, almost hypnotized in his movements, Zayn obeyed, enthralled by this boy, by this dangerous, dangerous man.

“This is my tree,” Liam explained shyly, gesturing at the withered oak that stood in front of them.

“Whoa,” was all Zayn could conjure up in reply.

The place was breathtaking. Despite the tree’s old, wizened feel, there was a sense of power thrumming through the bark, even from where Zayn stood. Zayn closed the final distance between himself and the tree, raising his hand to touch the trunk there. Though the bark was thick, there were black marks that scored its surface and seemed to cut into the very heart of the tree, traces of blazing fire. Traces of Liam’s rage.

His wrists burned.

“Let’s sit,” Zayn suggested, trying to sound nonchalant, but really his vision was blurring and he could feel phantom flames licking up his arms. They sat.

liam over him, eyes filled with rage

“I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“What a statement coming from the one who hurt me in the first place.”

Liam’s face fell. “Zayn, I’ve already apologized. It’s not something that I can take back. But I’m going to try to keep anything like that from happening again.”

Zayn closed his eyes and leaned his head against the bark of the tree, trying to breathe. “Do we have to have this conversation here? It’s probably not the best place to assure me to control yourself when we’re sitting in the very place that proves that’s a lie.”

“Think of it as a look at what I’m trying to change.” Liam was silent for a moment. Zayn, keeping his eyes closed against the red obscuring his vision, could practically feel the air heating with the force of Liam thinking.

“It’s affecting you, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Zayn feigned ignorance.

“This place. All the fire. It’s overwhelming you.”

Zayn opened his eyes and turned to gaze at Liam; the other boy was looking at him worriedly. “I’m fine,” he said.

“No, you’re not,” Liam accused.

liam’s hands on his wrists, setting him ablaze

“I have to face this eventually,” Zayn reasoned, trying to hold back the rising redness in his vision. His wrists burned. “Might as well do it now.”

“We need to get you out of here.” Liam, by now a flickering red blur in a sea of blackness, moved toward him, his voice edging on the verge of being panicked. Liam Payne wasn’t supposed to panic. “Come on, Zayn!” He reached out to take Zayn’s hand and Zayn screamed. His touch took his smoldering skin and set it ablaze, white hot all over as Liam pulled him up, white hot as his hand tightened around Zayn’s.

The rest of his mind faded away, replaced only with the vision of Liam’s hate-filled eyes and the feeling of burning.

Burning.

Liam!

“Zayn!”

“Liam?”

“Oh my god, you’re okay.”

Zayn opened his eyes, flinching at the brightness of the sun above him. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, sitting up with a groan as his muscles stretched in aching distress.

“You don’t remember?” Zayn ticked his gaze over to Liam, blinking at the raw, open worry on his face. “Zayn, you passed out.”

Zayn licked his lips, wetting them. “Why’s that?”

Liam looked down, face full of shame. “I took you to my tree, we talked a bit, and then you started getting affected. You had some sort of flashback thing.  You seem to be highly sensitive to powers, even residual marks.”

“Huh.” He stretched, shaking his aching head to try to clear the curtain that obscured his memories of the afternoon. “You took me out,” he began slowly, remembering being led away from his drawing and out of the house.

“Yes,” Liam replied, and his tone prompted Zayn further.

“You took me to the forest…we talked about powers and wounds.” Zayn looked down at his hands, inspecting his wrists. “I could’ve sworn…”

“You thought they were burning.” Liam’s voice was flat. “You screamed when I touched you.”

Zayn kept his eyes on his wrists, remembering how he’d burned. “I had good reason.” He laughed dryly, staring around himself; Liam had brought him to the rock overlooking the valley. Their place. “You know, there’s this thing called Stockholm Syndrome, where captives start becoming sympathetic towards their captors. I wonder if that’s what’s going on between us.”

Liam paused. “Is there a reverse of that?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Then maybe I have that.”

The headache and blackness was clearing from Zayn’s head. “Did you feel anything before then?”

“I felt a lot of things before we got into this mess.”

Zayn asked, “Was one of them a want to be with someone?”

“Yes.” Liam’s hands tightened around his own legs. “You.”

“So why’d you do it?” Zayn demanded, exasperated. “Was your tree not good enough? Did you have to use a real human for once? Is that it? I know you lost control or whatever – I get that. But there had to have been something else.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe.” Zayn barked out a laugh. “Give me a fucking break.”

“Sometimes, Zayn, impulses are just impulses. It happened. I can’t take it back. Sorry won’t change the fact that you’re hurt and we’re both pissed off at me about it.”

Zayn glared over at Liam. “It pisses me off that it’s easy to feel sorry for you.”

Liam’s eyes darted down to look at the ground. “I don’t try to. I don’t try to do anything, really. All of this shit that happens, they’re all mistakes, all of these terrible fuckups and I don’t know what to do, okay? I’m trying to fix myself but I can’t because it’s strong. The fire is so fucking strong and it’s killing me that I’m hurting people. First Louis, now you...I don’t want my instincts to rule me, Zayn.”

“I guess we both need healing.”

“I guess so.”

Zayn pulled at a loose string on the hem of his shirt. “I should go.”

Liam watched him mournfully, but he didn’t stop Zayn as he stood to leave. He just sat there, shoulders hunched a bit in shame. “I’ll see you, Zayn,” he murmured.

“Yeah.” Zayn stood over him for a second, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Lima Syndrome,” he said.

Liam looked up, eyebrows bunching together in confusion. “What?”

“That’s the reverse of Stockholm Syndrome.”

Liam just stared at him for a second, his eyes slowly registering what Zayn had said. Then he reached out and grabbed Zayn’s hand – it burned this time, but for a different reason – and pulled him down a bit.

And then he kissed him.

Quickly, nervously, all at once, and then Liam pulled back, and his eyes were the size of fucking dinner plates.

“Why’d you do that?” Zayn asked, his voice sharp as steel. He looked away, out into the valley.

“I don’t know.” Liam’s voice was soft, fearful. “Impulses.”

Zayn screwed his eyes shut. “Please leave,” he ordered quietly, trying to hide the shaking of his voice. “Please.”

Liam nodded, moving away and up. “You need to think. I just...sprung that on you,” he said. “I get it.”

“For once, you’re not questioning it,” Zayn commented, staring rigidly ahead. “Why’s that?”

“I stopped questioning and started listening.”

By the time Zayn turned around again, Liam was just a silhouette in the distance, a figure outlined by the blaze of the sun.

***

Despite Zayn’s expectations, dinner later on was surprisingly…enjoyable.

All of the tension had somehow bled out of him after his outing to the woods with Liam, and although his mind was still storming, still comprehending, he found himself perfectly at ease around Liam for the first time in a very long time. They sat across from each other with Zayn flanked on either side by Josh and Louis and Liam sitting and laughing with Nick and Niall. Harry and Simon were deep in conversation at one end of the table, and from the other head, Paul watched them all with a faint grin on his lips.

Somehow, Zayn was settled.

He should’ve been feeling wary and uncomfortable after even being in the same room as Liam, but somehow, it was fine. It wasn’t quite trust yet, and not everything had been settled between them yet, but they could work with that. They would.

Zayn could still feel Liam’s lips on his.

***

A blissful week followed, a week full of training and work and anything and everything that could keep his mind off of what had happened between him and Liam. But the pressure of knowing what had gone on and the stress about what to do next took over him and he found himself standing in front of Liam on the porch.

Liam’s shoulders were hunched in concentration as he held a piece of burning newspaper in his hands, his dark eyes intently watching the smoldering flames as they crawled up the length of the paper, inexorably bound to consume it. Zayn watched him quietly for a few moments, following the movement of the fire.

“We need to talk.”

Liam looked up at him steadily. “We do.”

Zayn jerked his head towards the forest. “Let’s walk, shall we?”

Liam brushed the ash off of his pants and stood, walking silently beside Zayn as they headed towards the forest. “So you’ve thought it over?” he asked.

“I did.” Zayn paused. “You kissed me.”

“It seemed appropriate at the time.”

Zayn frowned a bit. “We need to work on your impulse control. It’s good in battle, but horrible with people. Think things through with people.”

Liam looked down at his feet, and Zayn could see the blush growing on his cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Apologies shouldn’t be reflexive, Liam. They don’t mean anything if they are. Work on that too.”

“Yeah.” Liam was silent for a moment. “So what do you want with me now?”

“I’ve thought things over, Liam.”

Liam’s silence prompted him on. When Zayn chanced a glance over at him, he found chestnut-brown eyes watching him intensely.

He began. “So you burned me.”

Liam nodded. “I did,” he said.

“You mutilated me.”

The other boy flinched at the word. “I did,” he replied regardless, biting the words out.

“I need to reciprocate the gesture.”

Liam balked at that. “You mean you want to burn me too?”

Zayn shrugged. “If that’s what it takes to make things better. An eye for an eye, you know?” He pointed at a small opening in the trees. “We’ll sit down here.”

They knelt in the soft leaves intermingled with pine needles, the quiet eyes of the forest watching them. Zayn placed a hand on Liam’s shoulder.

"Do you trust me?"

Liam's eyes were wide and brown, so much like a deer's as it looks into the headlights of a car. "I owe you that much," he replied simply, and Zayn nodded.

He pointed at Liam’s arm. “Roll up your sleeve completely,” he ordered softly.

Liam obeyed slowly, baring his skin in the dappled light. He closed his eyes.

“Are you ready?” Zayn asked quietly.

Liam nodded, the lines of his lips tight and terse. “Do it,” he ordered.

Zayn had long since learned that the sun in him could burn warm, could burn hot, and could scorch. This time, he wrapped his hand around the warm wide bulk that was Liam's arm, and he sent the light through his own skin and onto Liam's. The light burnt with pleasant warmth under his hand, but he knew that it was scorching Liam.

Liam's dark eyes flew wide in shock, and the cords in his neck strained to tautness as he seemed to fight the urge to scream. It was interesting to Zayn how fire, such a deadly power, could do no harm to him, but the light could affect him as it would any other human. It was a different type of burn, one that showed infinite vulnerability beneath Liam’s shell.

It seemed that Liam was not as invincible as everyone seemed to think.

“Scream,” he hissed at Liam. “Beg like I did.”

A pained shriek immediately loosed itself from Liam’s throat, echoing around the trees with tremendous force. “Make it stop!” he screamed, his voice rasping with the effort. Tears began to run down the planes of his face, furthering the image of vulnerability. “Please!”

Zayn remembered the shadow of Liam over him, and he remembered the all-consuming burn as Liam yelled in his face, burning him as Zayn screamed for mercy. He took his hand away from Liam’s arm, seeing the raw red-and-white burn etched deep into the flesh.

“We’re done here,” he told Liam coolly, watching the other boy curled on the ground, clutching desperately at his injured arm.

He left him in the forest.

***

Zayn gave Liam three days to recover before he approached him again.

“Shielding. Teach me how.”

Liam’s dark eyes glinted with confusion. “Why have you come to me?” he asked softly. “You could’ve asked Louis or Josh or Paul.”

Zayn shrugged, replying, “You’re the best of us at this. I figured you could help me out.” He spread his arms. “I have a weapon, but what’s a soldier without armor? Isn’t that the first lesson that we were all taught when we came here?”

The ghost of a smile tugged at Liam’s lips. “It is.”

“So?” Zayn raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Teach me.”

***

“See, the trick is to remember that armor is more than just protection. It’s an extension of you as well as your power. You know how Niall’s armor is water that flows with him? It’s like that.” Liam faced him, clad only in a pair of shorts. Zayn was similarly garbed; he was happy about that, sweating under the sun as he was. “We’re going to start with creating your own weapons. This is also a more permanent manifestation that we can create with our powers. Usually, we have actual weapons that we can enhance, but in a pinch, we can make our own.”

“Oddly convenient,” Zayn remarked. “Okay, so how’s it done?”

Liam shot him a mischievous grin, and then he extended his hand outwards. Fire crawled down his arm, licking down to his fingers, and it crackled as it expanded in his hand, the flames crawling on top of each other and growing. The flames slowly solidified, and suddenly a bright sword was in Liam’s hand, shimmering red and gold and black.

Zayn whistled. “Holy shit.”

Liam laughed at that, and he clenched his fist tightly. The sword shattered, the shards turning back into fire that burned out in the air, leaving heat shimmering in its wake. “It’s one of the coolest things that we can do, I’ll admit.” He inclined his head towards Zayn. “Now you. Just focus. You know what you have to do; don’t go overthinking it.”

“Just...do it?” When Liam nodded, Zayn stretched out his arm, channeling the light. He imagined it flowing down his arm, solidifying into something pure and real and dangerous. He felt the familiar warmth racing through his veins, coursing through him like an animal eager to run, and he clenched his fist as something solid and warm began to take form in his hand. It raced upwards from his fist, all clean edges and a promise of pain. And then it stopped.

He held a sword in his hand. A fucking sword.

It was a weird combination of gold and silver, gleaming in the sun. It seemed to drink the sun’s light in, leaving the surrounding air feeling darker while it glowed brighter. “Amazing,” he murmured, and then he crushed it in his hand as Liam had, twisting the sword into a glowing orb that rearranged itself into a shimmering cat, a great leopard-sized thing. It butted its head against Zayn’s leg happily.

Liam’s eyes were wide when Zayn looked at him, and he smiled radiantly. “That’s - I don’t even know what to say. That was fantastic.” He quickly waved a hand in the air, and in its wake flames were left shivering in the air, and they took the form of a fiery lion that roared excitedly at Zayn’s cat, its call sounding like the crackling of a bonfire. The two cats raced off across the field, chasing and tussling with each other.

The two of them watched in awe as their creations raced around the valley, untamable. “Unbelievable,” Zayn murmured.

“They have minds of their own,” Liam said.

“Unbelievable,” Zayn repeated. The cats vanished from sight suddenly, the energy lost. The moment shattered. Sadly, he turned to Liam. “Armor?”

Liam seemed to shake himself back into reality as he turned back to Zayn. “Yeah, armor. So the deal is that you do the same thing as what you did with the sword, only make it cover your body. Do you remember what our armor looked like in the first battle?”

“Yeah,” Zayn replied, recalling chain mail and plates of something that might have been steel on someone normal.

“Then do it.”

Zayn closed his eyes at the command, clenching his fists and trying to recall the image of what Liam had looked like during the battle, trying to recreate it as his own. The light responded at the gentlest of his urgings, filling him entirely with warmth as the sun beat down on him. He felt sudden weight as something solidified on him, covering him; protecting him. He opened his eyes.

He was clad all in silver and gold, with chain mail on his arms and torso, and a golden breastplate protected his upper body. Below, the mail hung to the top of his thighs, and more golden steel covered his legs.

“You glow,” Liam told him. “Just a bit, but you do.”

Zayn smiled and tapped at the armor with a fingernail. It let out a little peal, like a miniature bell was hidden in the plate. “Amazing,” he whispered.

“So you’re good?” Liam asked. “I mean, we can practice more later, but that’s just about it.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Zayn let the light drop from him, revealing his chest and shorts again. The two of them stood together, basking in the warmth that they both knew. “Hey, Liam?” Zayn asked tentatively.

“Hm?”

“Can I see it? The burn?”

Liam hummed in response, and Zayn turned to him, looking at the other boy carefully. Liam’s eyes were intent, calm, and maybe forgiving. He raised his sleeve.

"We're even now," Zayn said softly. He held his scarred wrists up to Liam's burned arm, comparing the wounds. Though the mark he'd left on Liam didn't completely destroy the flesh and muscle as Liam's fire did to him, Liam's skin was raised and raw and flushed red. It would fade, eventually, to a dark brown that would remain on his skin forever.

"I do believe," Liam murmured, "that you are the worst kind of sunburn that I'll ever get."

Zayn smiled at that, picking up the affection that was threaded through the jibe. "I think that you can live with that.”

Liam looked down bashfully for a second, his hands playing nervously at his shorts. "Will you…will you come to the city with me tomorrow for dinner? Nothing big, just to...hang out?"

Zayn grinned toothily, ignoring the excited fluttering in his stomach. "It's a start," he teased, and Liam's eyes brightened into a delighted smile.

***

"This is a good song."

Zayn glanced at the screen of the car. "Drake?"

Liam raised an eyebrow, turning onto the highway. "You sound surprised."

"Never took you for a Drake kind of guy." Zayn tapped along to the beat on the window. "I dunno. It was just a thought."

"It's fine," Liam assured him, and Zayn could see a hint of a smile playing along Liam's full lips.

"You're more relaxed when you're not at the valley," he told Liam, still tapping the window.

Liam's smile faltered a bit. "That so?" he asked, glancing away from the road for a moment to look at Zayn. "How do you figure that?"

Zayn shrugged. "You just seem happier. You look happy to be in a normal place." He looked out the windshield, watching the road disappear beneath the tires of the car. "I know I am."

Liam admitted, "Yeah, it gets tiring, always being in a place where you're watching your back, or when you think you just might be normal, and then your fingers catch on fire." Liam's fingers twitched nervously on the wheel, tapping out a quick rhythm.  "So yeah, it's good to settle into a place where you're not surrounded by people like you."

Zayn nodded thoughtfully. He looked out of the window again. "Well, you have me."

A smile twitched its way across Liam's lips, soft and content. "I do, don't I?" he asked, turning off the highway.

The familiar buildings of the city loomed into view, all steel and glass and brick. Though he’d been there for a few times since he’d left to go live in the valley, the sight of it was always a shock. It was like it wasn’t his anymore, not his place or his home. He didn’t feel like he was one with the city anymore, and his heart gave a wince of longing at the thought.

They turned through the city, passing department stores and restaurants; a few times, Zayn could almost swear that he saw someone he knew. But then they were past, sweeping on through the streets that he’d known.

Home?

He felt alien here; the valley was where he belonged now.

Liam parked the car in front of a parking meter, hopping out to shove in some quarters. Zayn smiled at him grumbling at the price for just a few hours. “Fifteen minutes for a quarter? Honestly? This is why I never come here.”

“It’s just how it is,” Zayn laughed. “It’s fine, man. I have a ton of quarters if you need any.”

“I’m fine,” Liam retorted, putting in another two quarters. He frowned, a blush appearing on his cheeks. “Do you have another quarter?”

Zayn laughed again, handing one to a sheepish Liam.

“Oh, come on,” Liam urged, tugging him away from the meter. “Let’s go eat.”

They walked down the street for a few blocks, stopping in front of a nice Italian restaurant that Zayn recognized.

Liam wrung his hands nervously. "I hope it's not too fancy or anything. You didn’t specify whether you wanted casual or really posh so I tried to get right in the middle...?"

"It's great." Zayn studied the exterior. Not too fancy, not too shabby. It was a semi-formal, respected restaurant nestled in the inner circle of the beautiful part of the city. For a second, his vision was obscured by the far-off memory of walking through its doors, holding his mother’s hand tightly with one of his hands and his sister’s with the other. He let the memory pass, shaking it off mentally. "Let's go in, then."

Zayn could now conclude that after living with the others for so long, it was unbearably hard to feign normalcy.

It was surreal, sitting in a restaurant and pretending to be normal, like they were acting out a brilliant charade. Liam's hands fidgeted nervously with the tablecloth, and Zayn could tell that he was feeling the effects too. It was weird knowing that Liam could decimate this entire building and turn it to ashes, but he could not, simply because that wasn’t accepted except back at home.

“So,” Liam said, drawing the word out slowly. “Do you see anything that you like?” When Zayn looked up at him, he was grinning, a cheerful glint in his eyes.

“I think I want the best wine in the house,” he replied playfully, smirking at Liam over his menu. “And the lobster, of course. And don’t be shy with the truffles.”

Liam chuckled, turning a page of the menu. “You’re an expensive eater, Zayn Malik.”

“Only when you’re paying.”

“I see how it is.”

They laughed then, and when their eyes caught again, Liam’s eyes glinted happily.

***

"How can we just be so domestic?"

Liam looked up from the dessert menu, frowning faintly. "How do you mean?"

"You don't understand how fucked up this is," Zayn told him quietly. "We shouldn’t even be talking. I should hate you for what you did. I want to. But I don't. I just...I forgive you."

"You do?" Liam's voice sounded carefully controlled, thinly masking his relief.

Zayn scratched at the sparse stubble on his chin. "Yeah. I'm just - I'm not forgetting anytime soon, Li. Not by a long shot." He laughed dryly, shaking his hands for emphasis. "Not while I've got these.

Liam reminded him, "Those scars are there forever, Zayn."

"I'm aware," Zayn replied, "and so is yours now."

"True." Liam studied him closely across the table. "Do you want to share the dessert?"

"What is it?" Zayn asked, humming thoughtfully. He appreciated the sudden segue into a more casual conversation. "If it's anything with chocolate, we're getting it. No questions asked."

"It's that lava cake thing, actually. I hear those things are fucking great. We can split it, if you'd like."

"Or we can get two and each get our own lava cake," Zayn wheedled. When Liam raised an eyebrow, he adopted a pleading gaze. "Come on, we would never get our own back home. Just this once, Liam. Please?"

Liam looked back down at the menu for a second, and Zayn knew that he’d won. “Only because it’s just the two of us,” Liam warned, and he signaled for the waiter to come over.

"We needed this," Liam commented after they’d finished their two - Zayn was quite convincing when he wanted to be -  lava cakes, throwing some bills down on the table for a tip. "A vacation, you know?"

Zayn nodded, standing up. "It's weird to be back in this area."

"Why's that?" Liam didn't look up from where he was buttoning his jacket.

"My old house was near here. My family house, I mean." He said it quietly, wistfully, accepting that it was all gone.

Liam's hands stilled on his buttons. "Should we not have come here?" He was cautious, probing, but not being overly invasive.

"No, no, it's fine. I just haven't been here in a while. Lots of memories hitting me at once, I guess."

They walked out of the restaurant, taking simultaneous breaths of the fresh air outside. On a whim, Zayn made a decision and turned to his companion.

"I'd like you to come with me," he told Liam.

His eyes held a note of curiosity. "Where to?" he asked.

Zayn began to walk, feeling Liam catch up and walk close to his side, their hands brushing. "We're going to my old home," he said simply.

“Your apartment?”

Zayn nodded. “The one and only. If you’re up for it, I mean. If you want to go home now, I’m cool.”

“No,” Liam told him. “I showed you my tree, and now I get to see something of yours.” He grinned. “An eye for an eye, yeah?”

Zayn chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah,” he replied. “I suppose so.” He jerked his head down a side street. “This way.”

They ventured from the nicer part of town into the places that Zayn knew intimately, past seedy pawn shops and run-down apartment complexes. Liam seemed tense beside him, evidenced by the way that he was clenching his fists over and over again.

“Hey there, pretty,” a leering man drawled, staggering out in their path. He reached out and placed his palm on Zayn’s chest. “Pretty, why don’t you come on over with me?”

“No,” Zayn muttered, trying to back away from the guy. He’d dealt with worse than this back when he’d lived here. “Come on, man, get away.”

The stranger’s bloodshot eyes widened. “What, am I not good enough for you?” He pushed at Zayn in the chest, shoving him backwards into the wall of the nearby building. Liam shot forward, grabbing the man’s arm in an iron grip.

His dark eyes were furious. “You have no right to touch him.”

The man recoiled, wincing noticeably when Liam’s grip tightened on his arm. Zayn frowned at the glint of flame that flickered in Liam’s eyes. “I won’t – please–” the man pleaded.

“Liam,” Zayn ordered sharply, and Liam immediately released the man.

“Fucker,” the stranger spat at Liam, but he still slunk away back into the shadows, rubbing his arm as he went.

Zayn shook his head and went on walking, keeping at a faster clip than usual. Liam trotted to catch up with him, reaching him in just a few strides. “Zayn, what’s wrong? What’d I do wrong?” Liam asked, and when Zayn looked at him, he had that pathetically perfect little puppy dog face on, like he didn’t know what he’d done.

“You don’t need to fight my battles for me, Liam,” he muttered, turning down the next street. “I know how to deal with scum like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Liam apologized, and he reached out to touch Zayn’s arm. “I didn’t realize that it would have that effect on you. I was only trying to help.”

“Try to help by letting me handle things, please,” Zayn replied, his voice tight and clipped. “I grew up here. I know what I’m up against.”

Liam nodded. “I understand. Sorry.”

Zayn nodded tersely, stopping in front of a darkened building. “This is the one.” He pushed into the building easily, letting Liam trail behind. They ascended to his floor, stopping in front of the door that brought up memories in Zayn.

“Can we just…go in?”

Zayn shrugged. “Probably.” He leaned his weight on the door and turned the handle quickly, jiggling the knob until the door squeaked open. “Still opens like she used to,” he said, half satisfied. He stepped into the room warily, flicking on the light to reveal the husk of his former home.

“Home sweet home,” Zayn muttered quietly, ashamed. The remains of his home were a mattress on the floor, the shabby old couch, and the table with its flickering lightbulb swinging above. In short, it was much the same as how he’d left it.

“So you lived here,” Liam said slowly, walking into the apartment with wide eyes.

“I did,” Zayn retorted with a bit more bite than was entirely necessary.

Liam turned to him, his eyes concerned. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. I just think you deserved more than to just live like this.”

“It was how it was.” Zayn shrugged. “I could afford it, so I stayed.”

“So you stayed,” Liam echoed.

Zayn shifted uncomfortably. “Can we go back to the car now? I’m done here.”

Liam nodded with unreadable eyes. “Sure.”

***

“This was a good night,” Liam said when they got back to the valley. He still didn’t leave the car.

“A very good night,” Zayn echoed. “Thanks for…everything, I guess.”

Liam snorted. “It was the very least I could do. After what I did, I didn’t think that you’d give me another chance.”

“Did you mean it?” Zayn asked abruptly, putting the question out there before his conscience would stop him.

“Mean what?” Liam’s eyes were stricken.

“What you said…before you hurt me. You said that you were too scared of hurting me to want this.” He shifted in the passenger seat. “Do you, you know, want this?”

Liam blinked at him, turning in the seat so that he could reach out and grab Zayn’s fingers gently. “Zayn, I always did,” he murmured quietly. “I still do. I was just…you were right when you said I was a coward. I was a coward and I thought I would be protecting you by keeping myself away. After all that I did, and how I’ve let myself become the enemy among my family…it’s torture to think that somebody would still want to risk themselves to be with me. And that’s my downfall.”

“We can fix that,” Zayn assured him, taking his thumb and tapping it softly against Liam’s warm hand.

He looked up hopefully, doe-brown eyes shining. “We?” he repeated, sounding so excited, like he was barely containing it.

Zayn smiled. “We,” he affirmed.

***

Zayn grinned to himself the whole way into the house, sharing another bashful smile with Liam before the other boy headed upstairs to go wash up and go to bed.

“I honestly don’t believe it.”

Zayn flinched in surprise, turning around to see Niall leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. “Niall,” Zayn began, walking towards him, but the blonde let out a laugh of derision.

“I mean, I suspected it, and I knew you two had somehow made up in your own little way, but I didn’t think that it would lead to a date to the city and you two flirting like schoolchildren.” He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, smiling in a way that was emptier than Zayn had ever seen Niall be. “Seriously, Zayn? Liam?”

Zayn sighed, rubbing his temple quickly. “I don’t understand your point, Niall.”

The blonde, to his credit, looked furious. “He’s the person who messed you up so bad that you couldn’t speak straight for three days, and it’s his fault, and you’re dating him now? Of all the people, Zayn, and you chose Liam.”

“Niall, I don’t know why you question my decisions.”

“I’m worried, Zayn. I’m scared for you, and I don’t want you to get hurt. We’re friends.”

Zayn reached out and held Niall by the shoulders. “I know what I’m getting into, and I understand it. Liam and I came to an agreement a little while ago, and things reached a balance again. He understands what he did, and he regrets it. For now, I’m going to go with it. All I can ask of you is for you to at least try to reconcile with him as well. He needs his friend, Ni.”

Niall still frowned, but the anger faded from his eyes. “How do I let go of what’s happened? He’s always gotten away with things, and he’s distant, and he hurt you and Louis in ways that I can’t even begin to forgive…how are you able to just let go?”

“Exactly,” Zayn said. “You let go. We’re human. I’m human. You’re human. Liam is human. We’re all flawed. Liam’s flaw is his impulsiveness and feeling that he has to keep himself away for our sakes. Yours is that you are too rational. You only see the facts and not the humans behind them. You can’t let go, Niall. But I am asking you to try.”

Niall’s pale eyes glittered faintly. “For you,” he muttered. “For you only.”

Zayn smiled, relief coursing through him. “Thank you, Niall.”

***

“It was a date.”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“Did you kiss?”

“Harry,” Liam reprimanded sharply, and Harry ducked his head meekly.

Zayn smiled into his bowl of milk, watching the exchange. Although Liam was clearly embarrassed at being questioned, the words that he used on Harry lacked any bite. As soon as Liam left the room, Harry turned excitedly to Zayn.

“It was totally a date, wasn’t it?”

Zayn grinned. “Don’t tell him that,” he laughed, and Harry crowed in victory.

***

The pieces really seemed to fall together quickly, beginning first and foremost in the kitchen. Where there were usually bitter fights and tense silences, the mood was loose and relaxed. The chilly air in the house thawed, and they all laughed and joked, Zayn and Liam included.

That was also what had changed.

Zayn and Liam.

They were referred to as a unit more often than not nowadays.

"Who's sitting where tonight?" Louis asked, having been assigned the fucking tedious job of dish boy that night.

Josh paused his and Zayn's Xbox game and craned his neck to look into the kitchen. "Simon and Paul are in their usual places, of course," he said.

"And Harry wanted to sit next to Simon tonight to talk to him about their debate about flight powers that they've been having," Zayn added.

Louis snorted. "They've been having that for days. I'm pretty sure they're pulling facts out of their asses now." But he still set down the glasses of Coke and vitamin water in their respective places. "So then who's sitting next to Harry?"

"Liam, I think," Zayn answered absently, jerking his eyes back to the game. "And then me." There was an answering coo of mocking affection from Louis, and Zayn rolled his eyes as well as he could without missing anything that was happening in the game. "Let it go," he grumbled, promptly shooting a bullet through a zombie's head. "We're a thing. Big deal."

"Yes," Josh agreed suddenly. "Big deal. Very, very big deal."

"It's not, though," he protested softly.

Josh leaned over slightly to elbow Zayn, still focused on the game. He continued, "This is the happiest that this place has been in ages. You've really...well, I'd say that you've lightened the place up but that would be a pathetic little joke, wouldn't it?"

Zayn agreed, "It would." He hesitated a bit, frowning as his character was eaten alive. "You're being serious?"

"What? About what you've done to the place? Dead serious." Josh aimed and fired. "Nobody really fights because they're in better moods, and Liam doesn't brood anymore. I think he's realized that being an ass won't make him a martyr or a better person or whatever. He's becoming a lot like his old self, like back before the incident with Louis."

"Too bad he had to light me on fire for that to happen," Zayn grumbled. Josh made a sympathetic noise of acknowledgement. Continuing thoughtfully, Zayn added, "I'd call it collateral, but that would just make it sound cheap."

"And calling it a 'noble sacrifice for the betterment of society' may sound a bit pretentious," Josh said.

"Somewhere in between," Zayn suggested.

"Exactly."

Louis strolled in then, his eyes focusing on the TV. “You’re going to have to pause that,” he told them. “Dinner’s ready.”

“We just got started,” Zayn complained faintly, but Louis fixed him with an imperious glare and he sullenly paused the game. “You’re no fun,” he mumbled, and Louis puffed a sharp burst of wind across his face in retaliation, face solemn but eyes glowing in amusement.

“C’mon, you,” he chimed, pushing Zayn in the vague direction of the kitchen. He walked over to Josh and kicked him softly in the leg until the bigger boy got up and wrestled Louis into a hold. “Let go,” Louis demanded, a grin on his lips, “you’re going to miss dinner.”

“Your hair is getting too long,” Josh commented, but he relented and let Louis go. “Cutting it anytime soon?”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Louis said thoughtfully, ruffling his hand through his overgrown locks. “I like it like this.”

“Doesn’t it get in your eyes when you fight?”

“He probably thinks it makes him look mysterious,” Zayn teased, “right up until the time that it gets fried off in a fight.”

“It’s fine.” Louis smoothed his hair, arranging it carefully into a complete mess. “There’s no problem with it. For now, at least.”

“And that’s the operative term,” Josh chuckled. “‘For now’.”

“Get off my case,” Louis grumbled. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

“How would you know? You’re not even the one that made it.”

Louis turned to glare at Zayn. “I was involved.”

“You set the table.”

In response, Louis sent Zayn a sweet and loving middle finger. Zayn pouted his lips in return and went into the kitchen at last, dropping down into the spot that Louis had set for him. “Potatoes?” he asked, sniffing at the covered dish in the center of the table.

“Twice baked, actually.” Liam came over from the stove, trailing behind Paul.

Zayn looked from the steaming dish to Liam and back again. “You can cook?”

Liam shrugged. “I try to. Who knows if I’m any good or not?”

“If you poison me, I’ll murder you in your sleep,” Louis threatened, seating himself beside Josh opposite Zayn.

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Zayn commented, and Liam’s laugh echoed him.

***

Liam had this thing that he did that when he laughed; his eyes crinkled up so that all you could see were little slivers of his eyes. And even then, there was so much joy in his face that Zayn could hardly breathe.

Liam did this thing sometimes where he’d come up behind Zayn and just sling his arms around his body, and wherever his hands rested, they held tightly. It was possessive and tender and all sorts of endearing.

They got used to each other bit by bit, falling into small routines that made them less like friends and more like something else.

At breakfast, whenever Liam made toast, he’d butter two slices for Zayn, just the way he liked them. And Liam liked his toast with jam.

Zayn found himself marking pages in books with pieces of bright paper, setting the tomes on Liam’s bed for him to read. He always found passages and quotes that he knew Liam would appreciate.

They worked together well.

***

“You glow,” Liam told him one day, leaning against Zayn’s legs.

“What’s that?” Zayn asked, half listening, the majority of his attention focused on his drawing.

“I said, you glow,” Liam repeated, taking a sip of his water.

Zayn paused for a moment, considering that. "Well," he said dryly, "I'm truly surprised. It's almost as if I have a light power or something."

Liam pinched his leg in reprimand. "That's not what I meant," he insisted.

"Well, what did you mean, then?"

"I mean-" Liam flapped his hands in the air in what apparently passed for an explanation. "I mean, everything you do. It just lights everything up. Your smile, your laugh...that time you started glowing in bed..."

Zayn slapped his arm. "You promised to never mention that again!" he hissed.

Liam threw his head back and laughed.

***

“A job interview? Well, look how snazzy you look, Mr. Zayn Malik!” Harry cooed, watching Zayn step around the room in his new suit. Zayn looked worriedly to him, pulling nervously at the cuffs on the sleeves.

“Tell me the truth, Harry,” he said. “Is it too much?”

Harry shrugged. “It might be. How would I know? Regardless, though, you’re going to look awesome and impressive and better than anyone else that applies.”

“It’s just an illustration job, to be honest,” Zayn admitted. “Small publishing company. Children’s books. Nothing big.”

“You’re too modest. This could become the first step in an amazing career.”

Zayn ducked his head shyly. “I wouldn’t go saying that just yet. This is just the interview.”

Harry snorted and waved a hand airily. “Honestly, I think we both know that you have this in the bag. You have a perfect work environment, work the hours of the traditional nocturnal artist, and you have the talent. You’ve got this.”

Zayn took a breath. “You think so?”

Harry took him by the shoulders. “I know so.” He patted Zayn on the shoulder and pushed him in the general direction of the door. “You’ll do great, I know it. Go! You’ll be late otherwise!”

Laughing, Zayn let himself get manhandled out of the house and towards the car, shrugging Harry off with an “alright, alright” and a punch in the arm. He straightened his suit and got into the car, strapping in and turning it on absentmindedly.

A tap on the window startled him, and he turned to see Liam standing sheepishly at the side of the car. Grinning, Zayn rolled down the window. “I thought you’d forgotten me,” he teased.

“You look good,” Liam offered. “I wanted to be the last one to see you off.”

“I’m not going to war, Liam,” Zayn scoffed. “I’ll be back.”

Liam replied, “All the same, I’m still going to say goodbye.”

“Get on with it, then.”

Liam smiled widely and ducked down to poke his head through the window, pressing his lips to Zayn’s. Zayn parted his own to let Liam in, and for the briefest of moments Zayn let himself forget about the interview, but then he ducked his head away with an apologetic smile, marveling at how Liam’s full pink lips were slick and shining.

“I have to go,” he reminded Liam.

“Yeah, I-” Liam paused, rubbing nervously at his head. “Yeah, good luck, Zayn.You’ll nail it.”

“I hope so.” Zayn smiled and gestured for Liam to remove his head from the car, waiting until Liam was safely out of the way before he rolled up the window. He waved again and threw the car into reverse and pulling away from the house, Liam’s figure standing illuminated in his path as he went.

***  
It was dark when he got back to the house.  
Zayn hadn’t really expected anyone to stay up and wait for him, but by some trick of the light - he always kind of chuckled because of that whole light thing - he saw Liam standing in the shadow of the porch, barely illuminated. The second that he got out of the car, Liam moved like a snake, suddenly nose-to-nose with him in a matter of heartbeats. His hand tangled in the fabric of Zayn’s tie, tugging him along until they were around the corner of the house and under the shadow where nobody looked.

Liam pressed him against the wall of the house, his lips slow and searing against Zayn's neck. "You're gorgeous," he murmured, the movement of his lips whispering hotly across Zayn's skin.

Zayn breathed out slowly, arching his neck to allow Liam better access. "You're eager tonight."

"What can I say?" Liam chuckled, raising his head to capture Zayn's lips. "You in that suit...I can't believe I had to wait so long to show my appreciation."

"You're hot," Zayn told him, and Liam chuckled, pressing his burning hand to Zayn's cheek.

"I enjoy the double meaning, and this time I'll take that as a compliment." He kissed the corner of Zayn's mouth, and Zayn grinned when Liam buried his head in Zayn's neck again, pressing lazy kisses to the skin there. "It happens when I get excited."

Zayn hummed quietly, trailing his fingers across the warmth that was Liam. "Excited in more ways than one, I see," he murmured, his hands straying to the front of Liam's jeans, fingers sliding deftly along the button of Liam's jeans. Using Liam's surprise to his advantage, Zayn maneuvered them so that Liam's back was flush against the wall, his fiery brown eyes disappearing in smoky black. Zayn hummed in approval; he'd always loved Liam's eyes and the way they'd always burned like flames. “C’mon, then,” he breathed, pulling Liam’s cock from his boxers. It’d been a while since he’d been with a man, but the feeling of someone else’s dick in his hand was far from unwelcome. Very far from that.

Liam muttered something incoherent when Zayn took him in his hand, leaning his head against the wall and letting him do what he wanted. “Zayn,” he hissed, long and drawn out and a little tortured. He pushed his head forward again and attacked Zayn’s mouth, biting at his lips and Zayn groaned at the feeling.

Both of them knew that this would by no means last for any length of time. It was hurried and heated and rough and maybe that was the way that they both liked it.

"Has anyone ever told you," Zayn growled, stroking hard and fast along Liam's dick, "how fucking turned on I get by your fucking lips?"

Liam keened low in his throat, his hips jerking to meet Zayn's fingers.

"That's it," Zayn encouraged, his own hand dropping to palm himself through the infuriatingly tight confines of his trousers. "That's it, Liam."

A hand suddenly joined his at Zayn's jeans, fumbling to unzip the fly and tug at the waistband of his boxers. Zayn looked down in surprise, then back up at Liam. The other boy's eyes were glazed with pleasure but still intent. "I’m not just going to leave you looking like that,” he panted into Zayn’s mouth.

Zayn half laughed, half groaned, pushing his hips forward to meet Liam’s hand. “And thank god for that,” he breathed, the latter half of the sentence getting lost in a moan.

“I’m not gonna...gonna last too long,” Liam warned him, evidenced by the fevered motion of both his hips and hand. Zayn nodded, shutting him up with a kiss that was hot and sloppy and desperate.

“Shit, Liam,” Zayn hissed into Liam’s mouth. “Fuck.”

Liam shuddered violently and, with a low moan, came all over Zayn’s hand, Zayn following not long after, trying to stifle the noise that threatened to burst from his mouth.

The two of them leaned against the wall of the house, breath hot and labored against each other’s necks.

“Look at us,” Zayn chuckled, burrowing his face in the crook of Liam’s neck. “We’re giving handjobs against the wall of the house like proper teenagers.”

“Gotta stay with reality,” Liam breathed, “even though we’re not exactly proper teenagers, are we?”

Zayn laughed again, soft and out of breath. “You’re fun, Liam,” he told him. “You’re good fun.”

“I suppose that’s good news,” Liam replied with a snort, and he carded his clean fingers through Zayn’s hair, pushing it back from his face. “It’s always good to know I’m a laugh.”

“Not a laugh,” Zayn protested. “Just fun.”

“Okay,” Liam said. “Whatever you say, Zayn.”

“Ruining the moment,” Zayn murmured. “Shut up.”

***

“I got the job.”

Liam’s smile was so blinding that, for a moment, Zayn could’ve sworn that he was the one with the light powers.  
***

“Hello,” Liam murmured, his lips ghosting across Zayn’s jaw. “Do you want some company or should I just go to bed?”

Zayn scrubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to refocus his gaze on Liam. His eyes still swam with the illustrations. “No, I’ll be here a while longer. You go on up, Li. Thanks for the offer, though.” He offered a weary smile to Liam before he pecked him quickly on the lips and turned back to his drawing.

Liam’s broad hand rubbed comfortingly along his back. “Hang in there,” he ordered Zayn gently, pressing a kiss to his temple before he stood again and left the living room.

Zayn smiled down at the illustrations, looking tiredly from the drawings to the words of the story. For a small first assignment, it was a monstrous task. “I don’t know why this is what I want to do for a living,” he said to nothing in particular, twiddling the pencil between his fingers. He reached for his coffee mug, frowning when he saw that all traces of the mug were gone, save for the dark ring on the paper coaster. “Could’ve sworn I had the fucking thing,” he muttered to himself. “Must be the work getting to me.”

He resumed his work, shading in the crook of an elbow with dark brown. The work was both taxing and soothing, the repetition of shading comforting him immensely. He just wished that he had some goddamn coffee.

A clink to his right startled him; he looked up to see Liam slipping out of the room quietly. Beside him, on the desk, there was a steaming mug of fresh coffee.

Zayn smiled at the glass, then over at the doorway that Liam had disappeared through. Warmth, not from the heat of the house or from the coffee, spread through him.

Filled with new inspiration, he set to shading his character’s eyes a chocolate brown.

***

“Hello.”

Zayn looked up with a grin; Liam was standing next to his favorite reading chair, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Hey, you,” he greeted Liam, turning his face up to receive Liam’s incoming kiss. “What’s up?”

Liam shrugged, bending over the arm of the chair to peer at the book in Zayn’s hands. “What’re you reading, then?”

“A Game of Thrones.” Zayn turned the book to show him the cover.

“Isn’t that a show or something?”

Zayn laughed. “Yes. You hate it.”

“Of course I do.” Liam smiled softly. “Are you busy tonight?”

“Nope. Did you have something in mind?”

Liam’s dark eyes were unreadable. “Come with me?” he asked, and the pitch of his voice arced up in question. Zayn nodded, slipped a bookmark between the pages, and stood from the chair. Liam’s hand found its way to the small of Zayn’s back, gently guiding him out of the house and into the warm night air.

The valley was full of moonlight, soft and beautiful and faintly blue over the dips of the hills and the frosted tips of the forest treetops. Zayn breathed deeply as they walked; the peace was overwhelmingly reassuring. They crested the hill where they sat all the time, coming upon the great slab of rock where they’d forged a friendship. Spread over its wide face were blankets, tons and tons of them, downy and cotton and soft-looking.

“What’s this?” Zayn asked, his lips quirking up into a smile. He was pleasantly surprised, and when he looked at Liam, he looked happy and proud.

“Sit down,” Liam urged gently, smile soft and sweet on his lips. Zayn did, lowering down onto the plush softness of the blankets. When he did, Liam joined him, pressing their lips together into a kiss. It was a slower one, thoughtful and lazy and maybe a bit hopeful. Zayn welcomed the sensation, sitting back so that Liam could straddle his legs and kiss him. He could feel Liam smiling, and for a few minutes, or maybe a few hours, they sat like that, surrounded by the soft noise of the valley.

When they broke apart, Liam lightly maneuvered himself off of Zayn but still pressed against him, his broad shoulders reassuringly strong.

“So is tonight…is this it?” Zayn bit at his lip nervously.

Liam shrugged, picking at a thread that poked up from one of the blankets. “I don’t really know. I was hoping, and we both have, somehow or another, admitted that it’s something that we want now. It’s all up to you, to be honest. I just thought that if it were to happen tonight, then we should be in a place that means something to us.” He reached past the confines of the blankets and tapped at the smooth face of the rock, a nervous habit. “You know, just in case.”

“Just in case,” Zayn echoed.

The two of them sat together in silence, brushing against each other. Liam’s hand wandered around, first dancing along the blankets next to Zayn, then moving up to rest on his back.

“Who was your first?”

Liam pursed his lips. “Last year, Harry and I kind of had a thing. We had sex a couple of times, we talked it out, figured out that we were better off as friends, and that was the end of it.”

Zayn raised his eyebrows. He’d never really thought of Harry and Liam as the type to be a couple. “Really?’

“Really.” Liam grinned. “No exciting backstory for me. Just a classic case of two boys that wanted to get the whole virginity thing over and done with.”

Zayn chuckled. “That’s an eloquent way to say it.”

“Are you a virgin?” Liam watched his face curiously.

Zayn shook his head, smiling ruefully. “Nah, I let a guy fuck me behind a bar when I was fourteen. The money he gave me helped me pay for school after my parents died.” He looked down, ashamed. “And the money that came after that helped too.”

Liam’s hand flattened onto his back. “You sold yourself?”

“It was a choice that I had to make.” Zayn scrubbed his hand over his eyes. “It was that or starve on a part-time cashier salary.” He looked over at Liam, feeling the swooping feeling of fear in his chest. “Does that…change things?”

“Zayn…” Liam began.

“I mean, I get it if you don’t want me after this. I mean, I don’t really know anybody who wants somebody that’s so used. I’m sorry that I never mentioned it before, but I was scared and I,” Zayn gulped in a breath, “I just wanted you to want me. But I went and fucked it up and I–”

“Zayn, shut up.”

Zayn sucked in a breath. He tried to ignore the pain that came to him. He should’ve known that this would happen; Liam could never want somebody that was so filthy, so used and broken. “Sorry,” he muttered, and he made to get up, gathering his shoes from the rock. The tears in his eyes refused to be held back.

Liam’s hand followed him gripping his waist and pulling him in tightly. “I said shut up, Zayn,” Liam said, and Zayn couldn’t understand the infinite tenderness there. “Zayn, how could you ever think that you fucked it up? Do you think that knowing this would make me want you any less?”

“Yes,” Zayn whispered, still rigid in Liam’s arms. “I’m disgusting.”

“You’re anything but that,” Liam reprimanded, voice stern and gentle at the same time. “You are pure and good and you did what you had to do when you sold yourself like that. I could never hate you for actions that you took in order to save yourself. Never.”

“Never?” It was too good to be true.

“Never,” Liam affirmed, hugging him tightly and he was so, so warm. “You are beautiful all over, inside and out. Nothing would ever make me think otherwise. I still want you so much, and I want what you have for me.”

Zayn couldn’t believe his luck. How could he have been put with this boy, this complete enigma that housed the purest soul he’d ever known? “Liam,” he murmured, and Liam pressed their bodies together, pulling him down closer so that they were kneeling face to face, just breathing. “Thank you,” he breathed.

"I just want to make sure that you're okay."

Zayn exhaled slowly. "Yeah, Liam, I'm okay."

His eyes were unfathomable. "Zayn, do you trust me?"

"I want to."

Liam frowned, his hands stilling at the hem of Zayn's shirt. "That's not enough. If you don't trust me, then I won't be able to go through with this."

"Liam, I want this-"

"But you don't trust me." When Zayn remained silent, Liam nodded. "That's what I thought." He ran his fingers through his short brown hair, one hand still grasping Zayn's shirt. Zayn watched him carefully, leaning forward to rest his head on the hard bulk of Liam's chest. Liam's hand that had been running through his own hair moved to absently dance through Zayn's. They knelt like that for several moments, time freezing and rushing by at the same time. "What are you thinking?" Liam asked him quietly some time later. "Stop brooding."

Zayn almost opened his mouth to mention the pot calling the kettle black, but he decided against it, breathing in Liam's familiar scent. "I want so badly to trust you, but how can I know that you'll control yourself?"

Silence was what he got in response. Zayn turned his head to the side, listening to the sounds of Liam's chest. The heartbeat inside was growing faster, clearly the effects of nerves. He knew when Liam was about to speak when a particularly strong breath was inhaled. "Zayn, how can I prove it to you?" Liam's hand trailed down to cup the back of Zayn's neck. His hand was warm there, like human heat and not the blaze of the flames that coursed through his veins. "We've already done so much together, and I have not raised a hand against you."

"But you did once," Zayn pointed out. "You did it once and you can do it again. You might be holding back now, but what about later? It scares the hell out of me, Liam."

Liam hung his head, resting it atop Zayn's. "Do you think...do you think that we could try to get you used to the fire? It's only a weapon when I need it to be. With you, knowing you as I do now," he pulled back and lifted Zayn's chin with a finger, bringing their gazes together, "I could never hurt you. Never."

Zayn blinked up at the fierce dark eyes that held so much pain and fire. "Prove it," he whispered.

Liam's eyes glinted with something unrecognizable; Zayn would come to later know it as submission, but that was not something that he usually saw in the proud Liam. But for now, Liam dipped his head in obedience. "For you, Zayn," he murmured, his thumb stroking Zayn's jawbone, "anything."

Zayn tried to ignore how the words sent a bolt of arousal through him.

Fire erupted around them, dancing just out of reach. Zayn cried out and pressed himself closer to Liam instinctively, trying to escape the flames. Liam hummed into his hair and his hand that had stayed on Zayn's shirt suddenly moved beneath the fabric, his too-warm hand resting on Zayn's chest. When Zayn flinched in fear, he purred nonsense into Zayn's hair, and his fingers on that hand trailed in a perfect circle on Zayn's chest. The fire disappeared with a soft whoosh of air, like the earth was taking its breath back.

"There," Liam murmured, and he withdrew from underneath Zayn's shirt.

Zayn looked down at his chest, then around at the circle that surrounded them, now charred into the grass all around the rock. "What did you do?" he inquired, still trying to calm his shaking limbs after being so close to the fire again.

Liam smiled happily; gently. "Don't you recognize it? It's one of my wards."

Skepticism took over control in Zayn. "You warded the rock again? That's your big thing to get my trust back?"

"No." Liam shook his head. "I didn't ward the area. I warded you."

Zayn furrowed his brow. "What does that mean for me?" he asked.

"It means that as long as I live, fire can never harm you." Liam's eyes crinkled slightly.

Zayn knew that he should thank Liam, but something stopped him. "But doesn't that just mean that you're still going to probably use fire on me? You just warded me against it? Like - like birth control?"

Liam laughed a bit at that, but he quickly sobered. "I can't guarantee that I won't ever use the fire on you again, and to promise it would be to lie to you. I can only give you protection and a promise to try." He shrugged. "And think of it as a way to cheat when you play chicken with Louis, Harry, and Niall."

Zayn pressed his face against Liam's chest again, wrapping his arms around the broad torso. "I– thank you for being honest," he mumbled into Liam's chest. "That's what matters to me, the fact that you came clean about not being able to control it."

"Am I...forgiven?" Zayn could hear the raw hope in Liam's voice. And he was overcome with the sudden affection in himself. "Please, Zayn, I can't go on if you won't trust me."

"Liam," Zayn said, emotion pouring through him, "you were always forgiven. You just needed to realize that you just had to stop hiding.”

Liam's eyes were bright again, and he dipped his head to press it against Zayn's. "Thank you," he whispered, his hot breath ghosting across Zayn's lips. “Thank you so much.” He pressed his lips to Zayn's for a moment before he withdrew by a fraction, searching Zayn intently with his gaze. "May I?" he murmured, one of his hands dipping back down to the hem of Zayn's shirt.

"Yes," Zayn whispered in return, and then the too-warm hands were both there, at first just tugging at the hem and then slipping under, pressing flat against his stomach and then rising higher, their touch too hot but still not hot enough. Zayn leaned forward and kissed Liam again; this time, the contact was anything but chaste. The tenderness was still there, but the passion was growing, and it brought Liam's tongue to dance across Zayn's lips that immediately parted in welcome.

Liam hummed in approval as their mouths were opened to each other, and his hands began to bring Zayn's shirt higher. Everything in Zayn's mind was a flurry of yes, but he was tugged from his stupor when Liam pulled back from their kiss, tugging at his shirt. "Lift up your arms," he ordered lowly, and Zayn shivered and obeyed, allowing Liam to drag the shirt up and over his head, tossing it away carelessly.

Liam kissed down his neck, his large hands splaying across Zayn’s chest. His fingers explored every inch of Zayn’s torso, caressing and investigating and worshipping. “I want you,” Liam breathed against his throat, and Zayn tossed his head back to allow him access to his body, to all of him. “I want all of you.”

“You can,” Zayn murmured, tilting his head around so that Liam could bite at the soft skin of his throat. “Come on, Liam.”

A feral sort of growl was what he got in response, low and rushed and desperate, and Liam pushed at Zayn, made him flatten his body out on the blankets, and he was on his back and exposed to Liam, his bare chest moving quickly with his breaths. Liam moved to straddle his hips, quickly tugging his own shirt over his head before he bent over and kissed Zayn again, one hand gripping the back of his neck tightly. Zayn groaned when Liam’s fingers tightened in the longer hair that he had there, the feeling deliciously sparking with a twinge of pain.

He found himself running his hands up the thick, muscled planes of Liam’s torso, digging his fingernails into the firmly packed muscle he found there. His fingers explored Liam’s chest thoroughly, dancing around to pull at a nipple. He smirked into Liam’s mouth when that motion elicited a gasp.

"I brought - I brought -" Liam broke their kiss and fumbled one-handed through his shorts for a moment, removing a foil packet and small bottle from the black denim.

Zayn grinned, humor taking over for a second. He lifted himself on one elbow, smirking at Liam. "Like a Boy Scout. Always prepared."

Liam frowned and pushed Zayn back down on the rock. "I didn't ask you to talk, Zayn."

That shocked Zayn into silence, and he lay quietly on the thick blankets there, fisting his hands in the fabric. He lifted his hips slightly, trying to reach up to Liam for the friction that he so desperately craved.

Liam put the lube and condom down beside them on the blanket, and then he ducked back down to kiss Zayn firmly, taking control of the gesture to bite at Zayn’s lips and delve into Zayn’s mouth with Zayn letting him do so willingly.

Take it all, Zayn willed him silently.

It's odd, really, how even though they were both experienced, they fumbled nervously with their hands as they undressed.

It's odd, really, how even though Liam's hands were strong and they both knew it, he touched Zayn with care, like he'd break.

It's odd, really, how Zayn found himself feeling safe with the one person he'd ever feared.

"Liam," he said, placing his hands at the waistband of Liam's boxers. "May I?"

Liam's eyes blinked down at him incredulously, his hands placed on either side of Zayn's head for leverage. "Is that a fucking question?" he stammered, his arms trembling a bit when Zayn brushed his fingers over Liam's clothed cock. "Yes, yes, just fucking do it."

Zayn obliged at once, tugging the underwear down Liam's thighs in one fell swoop, letting Liam kick them off one leg at a time. He smiled up at Liam then, wrapping his fingers around Liam and giving a few lazy tugs.

Liam closed his eyes, his hips rolling with Zayn's movements, his breath catching in his throat. He let Zayn carry on for a few more moments, but then he sat back on his knees and pulled Zayn up onto his knees as well. "Get these off, then," he muttered, pulling at Zayn's boxers. "Don't know why you didn't just do it before."

"Yes, but where's the fun in that when I can wait for you to do it for me?" Zayn asked and he was being serious, dead serious and he waited for what felt like an eternity until a breath fell from Liam's lips with a single word attached.

"Okay."

And Liam hooked his fingers in the elastic, and he pulled the fabric down slowly and with care, his eyes still on Zayn's at every second.

Zayn let out a hiss when his cock was out of its confines, moving his hips eagerly. "Do it," he urged, "quickly."

Liam obeyed without question, slicking up his fingers before gently pressing into Zayn with first one, then two. Zayn screwed his eyes shut, trying to get himself accustomed to the feeling.  

His eyes set in fiery concentration, Liam spread his fingers, scissoring them experimentally. Zayn answered with a curse, arching up and into the touch. "Yes, god, yes," he hissed.

Liam added a third finger then, and Zayn's body burned, but this was a burn that he relished.

Zayn sat up, reaching for a kiss that Liam gave all too easily, filthy and fierce. "God," he breathed.

Liam took Zayn's hand, his right hand, and curled their fingers together. He lifted Zayn's hand up and pressed a kiss, just one kiss, to the ruined skin on Zayn's wrist.

He closed his eyes, screwed them shut tight, and he knew it then, knew what he was feeling. He knew what he felt for the boy with the fire and the anger and the too-strong arms. He knew what he was feeling for the boy that had ruined him, had broken him, had destroyed him completely only to build him back up with care.

And he felt it with the whole of his being.

"Zayn?"

A voice so tender, broken with lust and maybe - dare he hope it, dare he wish it with every fiber of his being - something more.

Liam.

Zayn opened his eyes, squeezing Liam's hand tightly. "I'm fine," he murmured. "Just fine."

"Good," Liam whispered back and he pulled Zayn close with his free hand, his fingers splayed out on Zayn's back so that his body came alive, and he kissed him. It was slow and searing and beautiful, the way that Liam kissed Zayn.

Zayn smiled and let Liam kiss him, and then he broke them apart. "Shall we, then?" he asked, watching the every movement of Liam's eyes. "I want you," he murmured, "to do unspeakable things to me."

Liam nodded slowly, lips red and slicked with saliva. "When have I ever said no to you?" he said in reply, and he laid Zayn down slowly, guiding him back down to the blankets with care, laying soft kisses to his forehead, his nose, his cheeks.

"Kiss me like you mean it," Zayn teased, and Liam attacked his mouth with ferocity. His teeth knocked against Zayn’s but his breath was hot and Zayn really couldn’t give a fuck if it wasn’t perfect. Liam ducked his head and reached between their legs, and Zayn knew what was coming next. He heard the crackle of the condom wrapper, and Liam’s fingers left him, leaving him squirming and empty, but not for long. He moaned when the head of Liam’s cock started to enter him, slowly and surely.

Liam bottomed out slowly, his eyes half-lidded and pupils blown wide. He rocked his hips a bit, testing out the feeling, and the movement made both of them gasp. “You...you good?” he asked Zayn.

“Yes, yes, come on,” Zayn begged, pushing his hips down to try to feel something more. “Just fucking move!”

Liam obeyed quickly, experimentally pulling out nearly all the way before sliding back in, his movements sure. Zayn nodded and managed to urge, “Faster,” and Liam’s hips picked up speed. The only thing that Zayn could hear was the roaring in his ears and the rhythmic sound of skin hitting skin, over and over again. Liam took Zayn’s cock in his hand, bracing himself with the other while he jerked Zayn quickly, moving in time with his hips.  
Zayn wrapped his legs around Liam’s waist, pulling him closer. He tried to urge Liam to go faster, but all that came out was a groan when Liam’s cock hit his prostate, and he screwed his eyes shut for a moment before they flew wide again.

"Zayn," Liam gasped into his ear, the name sending shivers down Zayn's spine.

"Again. Say it again," Zayn panted, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the wide expanse of Liam's back. The electric feeling thrumming through every synapse of his being was growing more and more intense, building until every thought was Liam and everything, everything was Liam.

"Zayn," Liam hissed, and Zayn groaned, digging his heels deep into Liam's waist.

It was so much, too much; not enough. Not nearly enough.

Liam gasped above him, his hips stilling for a moment.

"Your veins, Zayn," he whispered. "They're glowing."

Zayn forced his eyes open against the overwhelming pleasure of being filled, looking wildly up at Liam. Liam’s face was illuminated, glowing ethereally under soft light. When Zayn looked down at his own body, he saw long lines of glowing white tracing beneath his skin, elegant and pulsing and entirely different from the random glowing of his skin from before Liam, from before love.

"If you could see yourself-" Liam began, but he cut himself off, his hips snapping forward suddenly. "Like an angel." He bent forward and took Zayn's mouth fiercely, burning heat across his lips. "My angel."

"Yours," Zayn agreed feverishly when they broke for a ragged breath of air. He pressed his fingers into Liam's skin, feeling the unnatural scorching heat of the flames that raged beneath his skin. “Liam,” he whined, bucking his hips up into Liam’s fist.

Liam was everywhere; was above and around and inside him, and that was what brought him over the edge, the sense of being engulfed, and he screamed as he came over Liam's hand, Liam's name being repeated over and over until it became everything.

Liam shuddered above him, and with a low groan, he came, his broad body shaking above Zayn’s. Zayn recovered first, his breath deep and fast as he tried to regain his senses. With a wince and small noise of discomfort, Liam pulled out of Zayn, tugging the condom off and tossing it tied-up to the side. He collapsed next to Zayn in the soft blankets, reaching around to pull some of them up and over their sweaty bodies. Then he grabbed a couple of rags from beside their clothes and cleaned up Zayn's stomach, tossing that to the side as soon as he was done, settling down on his back in the blankets.

Zayn rested his head next to Liam's chest, listening as his heartbeat slowed to a steadier beat. "Thank you," he murmured towards the sky.

Liam hummed low in his chest in reply, wrapping an arm around Zayn's body so that they were cocooned together. Zayn pressed his cheek against Liam, feeling tired and satisfied.

The stars above them glittered, lulling them to sleep.

***

When Zayn woke up again, Liam's nose was buried in the crook of his neck, his breathing soft and steady. The morning light was soft, hidden now and then by wisps of clouds.

"Morning," Liam yawned, having noticed Zayn wake. His body was furnace-hot from sleeping.

"Your breath stinks."

Liam grumbled and frowned against Zayn's skin. "That's...nice."

"I'm not gonna lie," Zayn protested, smiling a bit. "It's morning and you smell."

"So do you," Liam reminded him, smiling a fraction.

"My back hurts," Zayn mumbled, half-whining.

"Side effect of sleeping on a rock." Liam grinned.

"And being fucked, but your explanation works too, I guess."

“Such cheek!” Liam teased, tracing lazy fingers across Zayn’s face, tapping a quick staccato into his cheekbones.

“Well, look here! It seems that the lovebirds are nesting!”

“Fuck,” Zayn whined, throwing a hand over his eyes.Liam grumbled underneath him and drew him closer, wrapping a thick arm around him. Zayn burrowed into the embrace.

“Oh, come now, boys! It’s morning! The sun is shining! Wake up and seize the day!”

Zayn peeked out from between his fingers, and to his dismay, Louis was standing there, grinning in the most obnoxious way.

“You’re lucky that it’s me and not Niall that found you two,” Louis scolded. “He would’ve blown a gasket. Poor kid wants to protect you, Zayn, and finding you two in a less than appropriate position together would not sit well with him.”

Liam propped himself up on his elbows, holding him and Zayn up. Zayn reminded himself to take time to admire Liam’s muscles later. “I thought you talked to Niall,” he grumbled, nudging Zayn a bit.

“Wouldn’t kill you to talk to him too,” Zayn muttered in return. “Get his blessing or whatever.”

“Pretty sure I was supposed to do that before I had sex with you.”

“Still here, boys.” Louis chided, hands on his hips. “I’ll leave you to get dressed and whatnot, but breakfast is almost ready and we’re not waiting up for you.” With that, turned and trotted down the hill, setting a quick pace down towards the farmhouse.

Zayn watched him go before he breathed a sigh of annoyance and began pulling himself up, reaching around to find his discarded boxers, slipping them on and giving Liam his own before he slipped out from under the blankets. He pulled his shorts on too, then his shirt. Liam came up behind him and pressed a light kiss to his cheek.

Zayn turned and smiled at Liam, putting a hand on the back of his neck to pull him close for another kiss, this time deep and sweet. "I had a good night," he murmured when they broke for air.

"So did I," Liam told him with a soft grin, and then he turned to put his shoes on. He was silent for a moment. “What’s that sound?”

“What’s what sound?" Zayn asked, pulling his own shoes on. He looked over at Liam, freezing when he saw the way that Liam’s eyes were fixed on the horizon, paralyzed with fear. “Liam?” He followed Liam’s gaze and froze where he was.

There were fireworks at the edge of the valley.

“Zayn,” Liam said, and his voice was deceptively calm as he reached out a hand and clawed at Zayn’s shirt, pulling him back and away and suddenly they were running, because there was a massive horde coming at them and they were trying to outrun the stampede.

"A flare!" Zayn shouted, looking back; they were filling the valley, catching them unawares and every second that they were not using to fight was another second closer to losing the valley. "Send up your flare!"

Wordlessly, Liam obeyed, raising his hand and shooting a red burst into the sky. He wheeled as he ran, turning for a moment to send a burst of fire hurtling down into the valley. A faint scream rose up as the dry grass near the attackers went up in flames, but the blaze was quickly extinguished, and the army continued on, inexorable.

Liam, with every step, radiated more and more heat, blazing red and black armor scorching across his body as they ran towards the stairs that would take them to the battle. Fire crackled along his fingertips, and

The others met them halfway between the valley stairs and the house, and they ran together towards the steps. As they sprinted, Zayn let his light armor surround him, feeling at ease within the golden steel. His sword appeared in his hand, stolen from a sunbeam.

Liam kept up beside him, fully armored as well, and a lion of fire loped along beside him, a familiar figure from a distant memory of shielding practice. Without thinking, Zayn waved his hand, letting his leopard take shape as it raced along with the defenders.

Zayn ran at them, raising his sword and yelling out a challenge. The sun shone brighter then, so bright that it would’ve blinded him, but the light was around him and through him and it was him, and he was at peace.

And then the world was a blur of screams and steel, and the battle was upon them.

Liam’s figure streaked past him, trailing flames behind him as he plunged into the throes of what everyone knew was a losing battle. His eyes flared, and armies of fiery warriors rose up behind him. He was magnificent, Zayn saw, and he was bright and beautiful and perfect as he fought with all of the strength that he’d kept coiled in his muscular limbs.

The clash of metal and metal and the omnipresent scent of ozone filled all of Zayn’s senses, taking over as he whirled and slammed a fist into a woman’s stomach, feeling the satisfying give of soft flesh, watching as she doubled over and was replaced with a wild-eyed young boy with daggers of ice flying from his fingers.

He ducked, flinching when one razor-sharp edge slit his eyebrow, and he shook his head to get rid of the blood that was trailing into his eye. His sword swung, white-hot as he poured energy into its metal, and the icy boy seemed to melt under its touch, his blood pouring from the place in his neck where Zayn had caught him. He fell, too young, too small, too frail; too dead for a boy so small.

Shaking the regret from his shoulders, Zayn turned from him and swung again, aiming for the neck of a burly man with red hair and a redder beard, ducking a burst of flame.

He swung and slammed his hand into a soldier's face, cooking him in his armor.

Somehow, for just a moment, Liam burst through the fray and was there, all bloodied but still standing. His sword, his beautiful red sword, was broken.

They were surrounded; they were going to be killed and everyone seemed to know it. Next to him, Liam squared his shoulders and hefted his fractured sword. In his eyes burned the drive of a man who knew he was going to die.

"Liam," Zayn said desperately, and Liam turned to him, his eyes transforming from fire to a very human brown. Zayn held fast to his arm, trying to tell him everything that he had held off for so long.

Liam's face turned anguished. "I know," was all he replied, and then he was gone, charging into the throng that surrounded them, and Zayn was suddenly, hopelessly alone.

Around him, the war went on in slow motion. A woman screamed as Nick slashed at her neck; a grown man buckled as Harry shoved a stone fist through his chest.

But they were losing.

Simon's scream was what caught his attention. As a man underwater, under a spell, he turned to watch, helpless, as a warrior disarmed Simon and slipped a dagger between his ribs.

His mentor, his father, fell to the ground, the light leaving his eyes.

Josh saw too, and he moved to avenge him, but he failed to notice the man of fire that loomed behind him.

Zayn reached out a hand to warn him, to stop him from suffering Simon's fate, but as Josh summoned vines to be thrown at the warrior with his face twisted in grief, fire was suddenly consuming him, burning Zayn's best friend. His screams carried to Zayn even across the carnage, and Zayn watched as his brother died.

He watched him burn.

Zayn shrieked then, the world turning to mute around him, and the light within him knew what to do. It pushed at his very being, threatening to overflow.

His world was burning with the force of his fury, and he spread his arms wide in the center of the carnage where he was losing the men that had become his family.

"Shield your eyes!" he roared, and everyone that he cared about ducked and threw their arms over their faces, and Zayn let the light explode.

It burned outward with an incredible force, and everything burned him and froze him, rushing through his veins and off his skin with a force that not even he could control. Zayn, with a quiet laugh in the middle of maelstrom of his own making, remembered a far-off time when he'd feared Niall for doing the same thing with his water.

Every sound was gone.

Silent.

It was just –

Light.

And then, with a hiss, with a breath of relief that flowed from every fiber of him, the light was gone.

He didn't really know how long it took for it to end, but when he lowered his arms the sky was dark. Around him, men and women and people like him, so young and so hateful, were sprawled across the ground. He walked to one of them and, in the twilight darkness that shrouded the valley, kicked one of them over onto her back. His thoughts were confirmed; her eyes were burnt out. She was not breathing.

"Zayn?"

The voice cut through everything that surrounded them, shattering the silence that had weighed heavily on his ears. Zayn turned and then there was Liam. Bruised, bloodied, perfect Liam was getting up from the ground and staggering towards him, his eyes wide and so brown and focused only on Zayn.

“Liam,” he whispered. “Liam.”

“Zayn,” Liam coughed, and it was a laugh, one of disbelief and wonder. “Zayn!” He reached Zayn and he pulled him into a hug, and it felt so real, so perfect and Zayn couldn’t believe that this was his reality. He’d saved Liam.

He melted into the embrace, trying to dry his sudden tears on Liam’s chest. “You’re safe,” he gasped out. “You’re safe.”

“I’m safe.” Liam’s large hand stroked through his hair, shaking but firm.

“Thank god,” Zayn murmured, and he held him tighter than he’d thought he was capable of.

“I love you,” Liam gasped into his ear, his body held trembling against Zayn’s. “God, I love you so much.”

Zayn gasped out a sob, the force of it shaking him to the core. “Liam, fuck, I love you too. I love you so fucking much.”

“I know,” Liam soothed, trying to smooth the jagged cries from Zayn’s body. “Don’t cry. It’s over. We’re safe. Everyone’s safe.”

The words were cruel in the moment that had been perfect for a heartbeat.

“They’re dead,” Zayn told Liam numbly, bluntly, the words falling from his lips like anvils. “Josh and Simon.”

Liam’s eyes widened and glassed over with tears. “No,” he murmured. “No, Zayn, no, not them.”

“They’re dead,” Zayn repeated. His voice hitched, and his body began to respond to the pain of losing them, but inside the grief put him to sleep, and the elation at knowing that everyone else was alive was extinguished. “Liam.” He swayed on his feet, the world suddenly becoming way too blurry for his liking. “Fuck, Liam…”

“Sit down,” Liam soothed, and though his voice cracked with tears too, he held Zayn in his strong arms and lowered his shaking body to the ground. “You’re tired and you’re overwhelmed.”

“So are you,” Zayn choked, but he still let Liam hold him like a child. “Liam,” he hissed, clenching his fists in the fabric of Liam’s shirt, holding on for dear life. Still, despite his efforts to anchor himself, he saw pinpricks of blackness appearing and coalescing before his eyes, and his vision began to darken.

“Zayn, come on, hold on,” Liam begged him, and they held each other tighter. Zayn, faintly, felt the warmth of Liam’s tears landing on his skin.

He was exhausted.

He let the blackness come.

***

The aftermath of the battle was subdued, and Zayn tended to remember it in black and white more often than not.

Later, Liam told him that Harry had buried all the bodies already, all of them except for the two of their own. Those had been taken to the city in Paul’s car, down to the morgue and on to a funeral home where they were prepared and preserved and put into coffins.

Injuries were there, including a slash on Zayn’s arm that he hadn’t remembered getting, one that made it hard to move his wrist. It might always be there; he might never draw again.

Louis was weak and frail, having conjured up a full-blown tornado at one point during the battle; he was drained and tired. Harry and Niall had burn injuries, and Paul had gotten a knife to the leg that mercifully missed his femoral artery. Nick was fine, other than a few nasty bruises, and Liam was recovering from a mild concussion.

The valley was quiet and dry and dead, and Zayn didn't know if they'd recover this time.

***

The burials were quiet.

Simon was laid to rest in the hollow between two arching trees, the bowing trunks casting shade across the site. The little cove was nestled amongst the other trees in the lower part of the valley, a cool and quiet place.

It suited him.

Niall stayed there for a little longer than the others, lingering in the shade of the trees. His face was in shadow, but even from a distance, Zayn could see his shoulders shaking with sobs.

It seemed cruel that Niall should have to lose two fathers in his lifetime.

When they buried Josh, the pain in Zayn’s chest grew from a dull ache to the fresh, razor-sharp agony of grief, the loss hitting him harder than he wished it to. The location was out on the top of the valley, on the edge farthest from the house. The wind was cooler there, and its bite was sharper. It overlooked the whole valley.

“Sentinel,” Louis murmured beside him, and when Zayn looked over, his blue eyes swam with tears. “He always loved to sit and watch.”

Zayn watched fallen leaves swirl over the new plot of dirt after the others had gone, staring at the spot where his best friend would stay. “You’re supposed to be back,” he hissed, clenching his fists. “You’re supposed to jump out of the ground and shake it off. This is your element, for god’s sake. Come back, Josh. Dammit, just come back. Please.”

The trees all around the valley seemed to groan in the wind, and the cold wind slapped him. For half a heartbeat, the world seemed to sigh, and maybe Josh was there, his laugh whispering along, but then it was lost in the wind.

It was a long walk back to home.

***

Harry’s green eyes were dark with concentration when Zayn found him behind the house, and they stormed with something untold, something that wasn’t like the Harry that Zayn knew. Something grieving, something broken.

His hands were running over a block of dark stone, fierce and bold and delicate. Beneath his touch, the stone molded itself, turning into the familiar stern features of Simon. Beside him, Josh was already carved out, his face showing an easy smile.

Zayn cleared his throat. Harry looked up at him, and upon closer inspection Zayn saw that his eyes were bloodshot and tired-looking. "Hey," Harry offered in greeting.

"Where are you going to put them?" Zayn asked.

Harry looked back at the statues. "The graves," he said. "Someone needs to remember what they were like." He wiped at his eyes with a corner of his shirt. "I mean, even we're going to forget them eventually." His voice hitched and broke.

"Harry," Zayn said softly.

"God," Harry snarled through the sound of tears. "God, I miss them so much."

***

“I’m leaving.”

Zayn looked up from his book, squinting at Nick. The older man had a duffel bag across his back, and he seemed worn. “What do you mean, you’re leaving? Getting pizza leaving?”

“No,” Nick replied, shaking his head. “No, I’m leaving leaving. I got a job over at a station in the city and I’m moving down there. This place just holds too much for me to handle right now.”

“But what about your power?” Zayn asked, standing and walking over to his friend. “Are you going to be alright in a place where everybody’s normal?”

Nick shrugged. “I won’t know unless I try, will I?” he said as way of reply, his eyes shadowed and forlorn. “I think I’ve had enough of our kind to last a lifetime.”

Understanding, Zayn nodded slowly. “So you’re leaving now? Like right now?”

“My car’s all packed and I’ve already said the last of my goodbyes. You’re the last one, mate.” Nick studied Zayn for a minute, his eyes seemingly unfathomable. “C’mere,” he finally said, and he pulled Zayn in for a hug.

Zayn gripped him back tightly, closing his eyes to try to remember every bit of Nick, to hold onto every single memory of him and commit his persona to memory. He did it with the determination and love that he’d wished he’d done for Josh and Simon.

If only he’d known.

“You’ll be alright, Zayn,” Nick told him quietly, rubbing his back for a quick moment before releasing him, holding him at arm’s length. “I know it feels like everybody’s leaving, but it’ll get better with time.”

“Just be safe,” Zayn pleaded, “and keep in touch. Please.”

“I’ll text whenever I can,” Nick swore solemnly, shouldering his duffel to get it back in position on his shoulder. “Walk me to my car?”

“Sure,” Zayn said, trying to keep the choking note from his voice. He trailed along beside Nick slowly, feeling like this was the end of an era, a parting of ways.

“Is this the end?” he asked quietly.

Nick paused for a second, hand stilling on the doorknob to the house. “End of what?” he asked in return, but they both knew what Zayn was talking about. Maybe it was reassurance for both of them to have it said out loud, to validate that this was what they both were feeling.

"The end of an era."

Nick shrugged. "And the beginning of a new one, I suppose."

"I suppose," Zayn echoed. When Nick turned to leave, Zayn called him back. "I love you, man."

Nick turned back, his eyes going soft. "I love you too, Zayn. Stay safe."

Zayn nodded fiercely, his eyes burning.

The door closed.

***

Three days after Nick had left, the house was all at once too empty and too tight, the presence of the ones that had gone threatening to beat down the walls.

Liam and Niall sat at the far end of  the dining room table, heads close together as they whispered to each other. Every once in a while, Niall would smile, or Liam would cough out a little chuckle. Harry quietly piled some potatoes into his plate, picking at them listlessly.

Zayn felt claustrophobic and panicky in the room where nobody talked about what they all were avoiding. He pushed back his chair. "I think that I need some air."

Paul raised his eyebrows. "You were just outside."

"So I need some more air." Zayn shrugged and left the room, shouldering past Louis as he came in. The older lad let out a little sound of protest when Zayn shoved him aside, but he let him past nonetheless.

As soon as he left the house, he was running, and his vision blurred with tears and with his speed, taking him far, far away from the house with all its ghosts. He sprinted his way up the trail along the lip of the valley, past the stairs and onward towards the great gray slab of rock.

Zayn stopped, panting, and looked out at the valley, at the great wide expanse of sickly, yellow-brown grass, seeing even from his height the bloodstains that marred the ground.

Then he screamed.

It was the kind of scream that wore his soul raw, and it echoed across the valley, the sound of his agony coming back at him over and over again.

He dropped to his knees on the cold rock, staring out at the valley that had so long ago been foreign. Now, here, he almost wished it still was.

“I’m sorry.”

Zayn turned. Liam was standing by his shoulder, quiet and solid and there. He repeated again, “I’m so sorry.”

“What does it matter?” Zayn asked, standing and trying to get away. “Being sorry won’t bring them back, will it?”

"You act like you don't care but you do. You do, and it's tearing you apart."

"Liam," Zayn muttered, turning away. "Come on."

"No." Liam grabbed him by the shoulders and held him fast. "No, Zayn, stop hiding from me that you're broken. Stop using the mask around me. I stopped using mine a long time ago.”

“Liam,” Zayn said again, and this time it was a little more like a prayer, a little more like a sob.

“I know,” Liam murmured, and then he was holding Zayn, pressing them together and just drawing the sobs out of him, coaxing the tears and the gasping breaths from where Zayn had bottled them up. “Come on, Zayn. Just let it out.”

Zayn buried his face in the soft cotton that smelled of Liam, breathing in the familiar smoky smell of him, trying to find comfort in his warmth.

Liam leaned against him, his presence warm and solid and comforting. Zayn laid his head on Liam’s shoulder, closing his eyes and turning his face towards the sunlight.

“We’ll be okay, Zayn,” Liam told him. “We will.”

“And until then?”

Liam tightened his hold on Zayn. “Well, we’re just going to wing it, aren’t we?”

Zayn smiled a bit. “We always do.”

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: I'd just like to address Zayn and Liam's relationship here. It is, without a doubt, pretty messy. Liam hurt Zayn, but Zayn stayed with him, believing that he could fix Liam. Liam kissed Zayn when Zayn was still highly traumatized by the abuse that he inflicted. They didn't have sex until Liam warded Zayn, which is pretty much saying, "Hey, I can't guarantee that I won't keep abusing you, but here's a safety net just in case!" which is VERY BAD. 
> 
> I just want to thank my girl Lex and apologize for not posting this a year ago like I said I would!! Also, you can find me on tumblr at rocketshipliam; drop me a line and tell me what you think!
> 
> Again, HUGE thanks to everyone. Love you guys!


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